


The Raven

by aussieokie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Gen, Keenler - Freeform, Ressler gets hurt again, how much more can Donnie suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussieokie/pseuds/aussieokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While trying to obtain information on The Cabal, Red and the task force put themselves in the crossfire as they seek to protect an informant. Set after The Longevity Initiative, in the 'old' Blacklist universe pre 2x22.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Garrison Clarke

_So here is my Summer hiatus story, as we begin our long wait till September 24th and Season 3! I have been plotting this story for a while, and it's set right after The Longevity Initiative, and before the events of 2x22 where our beloved Ressler has to hunt Liz. So it's 'old Blacklist universe'. Forgive me!_

* * *

The day had started like any other at the Post Office. Descending in the yellow metal box after parking his vehicle, Ressler walked through the quiet room. No one was in yet, with the exception of a soft yellow glow coming from an upstairs office. Sitting in his office, it felt a little warm even at this time of day. Shedding his jacket, he turned his computer on and leaned back in his chair.

A little while later he headed for the break room and set about making the first pot of coffee for the day. Standing watching the coffee drip through the filter, he heard steps behind him.

"Agent Ressler, you're in early. Or perhaps I'm a little late today," said Cooper, opening a cupboard to retrieve a cup. As the coffee maker gurgled, announcing its contents were ready for consumption, Ressler motioned for his boss to take the first cup. As Cooper did so Ressler waited, glancing sideways at his superior. He was looking better. Whatever blood sugar problem (that Ressler didn't believe for a minute) he'd had the day he had collapsed, it was obviously under control now.

Cooper caught the glance. "Yes, I'm feeling better," he smiled, then left to head up to his office. Ressler silently returned the smile, before leaving the break room with his own coffee. There was more life in the war room now. The wall monitors had fired up, with various CNN news feeds on the large screens. Nothing of any great significance, Ressler noted as he walked to his office.

As he placed his coffee cup on his desk and sat down, Aram poked his head in the door behind him.

"Agent Ressler, Mr Reddington is on his way down," he announced.

Ressler swung around in his chair, regarding Aram and wondering why he was hearing this from him and not Liz. "Where's Keen?"

"Oh, she's on her way too. She's the one who texted me," explained Aram, before smiling briefly and disappearing back into the war room.

Ressler threw a look across to his partner's empty desk and then stood up, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. Still pulling it on as he straightened his collar, he walked into the war room as the elevator doors opened and out stepped Reddington and Liz.

Reddington addressed them one by one as he approached, all charm. "Agent Navabi, looking ravishing as usual this morning. Aram, rather dapper there. New tie?" he paused briefly, "Donald, awake yet?" he smiled, toying with the lead agent and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Ressler simply stood and shook his head, sweeping Red's barb aside. He rested his gaze on Liz's eyes as she stood slightly behind Red, catching the slight smile from her.

"Well then, now that we're all here, Aram, I need you to look up a name for me. Garrison Clarke."

"You need us to find him?" asked Ressler, watching Aram type the name into the laptop.

"Not at all Donald. I know where he is. A charming English village named Winchester Hill. I need us to take a little field trip. Literally. The man practically lives in the middle of a field," he informed them just as Aram brought up an image of a large English manor house on screen.

"Whoa. Nice digs," said Aram as Red smiled at him.

"Very nice indeed. Pack your bags, Agent Mojtabai, you're coming with Donald, Lizzie and I to England."

Aram's head shot up, "I… I am?" he asked nervously, quickly looking to Samar for support. She smiled at him as she perched on the edge of her desk.

Red regarded him with a "what could possibly go wrong?' smile, and slapped Aram on the shoulder.

"Relax Aram. It'll be a gas."

###

Just 7 hours later, having crossed the Atlantic on Red's Learjet, they arrived in Portsmouth, England. Picking up the rental car, Ressler immediately missed having Dembe around. Red had been very evasive, only saying that Dembe was attending to other business for him. But even Ressler had got used to the dark, quiet man driving them around. It had been a while since he'd driven on 'the wrong' side of the road across the Atlantic, but he could handle it. Climbing into the rental car, they headed out of the city and into the green countryside.

Suburban streets soon gave way to narrower country lanes lined with trees and short wooden fences, holding back fields of lazy sheep. It had been raining, leaving a few puddles here and there on the road and under muddy field gates. Ressler could almost feel his blood pressure dropping just driving through such a calm landscape.

"Aaahh, this is the life. Just look at this simpler, slower pace they have here," waxed Red from the back seat beside Liz who was likewise enjoying the green scenery. Or more to the point, was enjoying watching Red enjoying it.

Aram, sitting in the front was the only one of the group who was not so relaxed. "Um, Mr Reddington, so when you said 'scan his arm', you mean literally, get my scanner and read something on his arm, right?"

"Not on his arm -'in' his arm. Garrison Clarke may look like a retired official to the rest of his village, but make no mistake; the man carries a wealth of information on his person," explained Red, leaning forward a little to Aram.

"Okay…" Aram wasn't so sure about any of this. Give him a laptop to hack, or a hard drive to recover and he was your man. But having to get within 3 feet of someone and scan THEM and escape notice. Well, that he wasn't so sure about.

"The embedded microchip in his right upper arm holds information on members of the Cabal. Among other things," Red shrugged vaguely.

Ressler knew he was deliberately holding information back. He looked up briefly, catching Red in the rear view mirror as he spoke to Aram in the front passenger seat.

Following the coordinates on the GPS, the female voice from the rental dashboard announced their destination was up on the left. As Ressler slowed they spotted the entrance set back from the road. As they headed between the wrought iron gates, Reddington smiled confidently at Aram. "Oh, it will be a piece of cake. We'll get in, retrieve the information we need before Clarke even realizes it, then be out."

And parking on the circular driveway in front of the large manor house, hearing Aram take in a deep shuddering breath in the seat beside him, Ressler certainly hoped Reddington was right on this one.

###

"Aram, you'll have about two minutes. Can you do it?" Red asked him as they stood in the large living room waiting on Garrison Clarke to appear.

"Um, I think so," he replied, nervously clutching the leather strap of his shoulder satchel.

"Good man. Your colleagues here will be more than able to keep Clarke distracted." Turning to Ressler and Liz, he tilted his head, a sly little smile appearing on his features. "Lizzie, take Donald's cue."

Ressler glanced sideways at Liz, meeting her eyes and seeing them narrow slightly as she tried to read what he had in mind.

Nodding conspiratorially to them, Red then turned to face their host as he entered the room. "Garrison!" he reached for the man and clapped him squarely on his back, before holding him at arms length. "How wonderful to see you. It's been far too long."

Garrison Clarke, a primly dressed man in his mid 60s drew himself back from Red's grasp, straightening his jacket and vest. Acknowledging Red with barely suppressed discomfort, he spoke in a refined British accent.

"It has been a while, yes. This is true Raymond," he said, his words tumbling over each other as he took another step back from Red. His grey eyes darted over the gathered group, before landing on Reddington again.

"My employees," he told Clarke indicating the agents beside him. "Though they prefer I call them my associates. They insisted on joining me in your wonderfully civilized country. Apparently they don't get out much in their day jobs."

Ressler got the distinct impression Clarke was not that pleased that his time apart from Reddington had now come to an end. It also struck him that this guy looked more like a retired grandpa than some sort of government spy. All that was missing were the kids coming in grabbing his arms to haul him off to some other game they wanted to play. And yet Reddington had clearly said this guy was one of the top men in the Cabal. Well, so be it. Fortunately - or unfortunately, whichever way you looked at it - he trusted Red on this one.

It was time to go to work though and retrieve the information they'd come for. Watching Red, he waited for his cue.

Aram stood silently beside Ressler and Keen, likewise waiting for his moment. Though unlike Ressler, he was nervous and unsure of himself. In the war room he was completely at home. Out in the field he longed for the security of his desk and familiar laptop. And Samar. Far be it from him to openly admit it to his colleagues (who couldn't miss it even if he'd tried) he missed looking up at her from his desk, seeing her dark eyes, dark hair and full lips looking in his direction. To say he was smitten was an understatement. Reluctantly pushing aside the memory of his coworker, his attention was now drawn back to Reddington.

"I was just telling my colleagues here," began Red in that oh-so-familiar story telling tone while motioning to the trio beside him, "that I LOVE the smell of the grass after the rain. Where I come from it smells wonderful. Yet here, in the English countryside with the church steeple visible through the window and the estate laid out through these open French doors, with the roses and daffodils before us... my gosh. It smells exquisite! You English don't know how good you have it! Just look at that, Donald. Take a deep breath. Even in here you can smell that." As Red motioned toward the window, Ressler refused to look and raised his hands to his hips.

"Will you please shut up with how much you love everything and just get on with it? We don't have all day," he replied with visible annoyance, gritting his teeth as he approached Red, consciously moving in front of Clarke to keep the Englishman's attention off Aram.

Aram immediately removed the scanner from his pocket as Ressler began his diversion. His program began to run instantly, accessing the files from the embedded chip in Clarke's arm.

Red turned to Clarke in mock disdain and shook his head, "You will have to forgive Donald. He doesn't see the beauty around him. That macho streak in him, I presume. All balls and no brains," he told Clarke pleasantly while ignoring Ressler bristling near him.

"You know what? I've about had it up to HERE with your crap today," said Ressler as his hand swept over his head, taking another step toward Red.

Positioning himself slowly so as not to draw attention to himself Aram slid behind Clarke, reading the chip. Eyes darting between the scanner in his hand and Clarke in front of him, he was fast becoming a sweaty, nervous wreck. This espionage stuff really wasn't for him. He'd leave that to James Bond - or Donald Ressler. He didn't like to admit it, but Ressler was kind of a hero to him. And concentrating now on his colleague arguing with Mr Reddington, even Aram thought it looked real.

Behind Ressler, Liz caught on immediately and raised her voice to her partner. "Oh, get off his case, Don. If it weren't for him we'd-"

Ressler turned his head swiftly back to her, still moving further from Aram as a bewildered Clarke beheld the spectacle before him. "Really?! You're going to defend him after the shit he laid on us this morning?" His blue eyes met hers; staring coldly at her and for a split second she sucked in a breath, truly feeling he was angry at her. And not for the first time, it struck her how good her partner was at what he did. Gathering herself, she continued after only missing one beat.

"You're a great one to talk! Look at what we have to put up with from you!" she cried, standing her ground with her partner, playing her role. "You, and your moody, stubborn male bullshit." And suddenly it occurred to her that she wasn't sure how much she was role playing.

"Excuse me a moment Garrison," said Red, rolling his eyes resignedly and shaking his head as he turned to the vocal FBI agents before him.

"Donald. Lizzie. I understand you're both upset. Yes, it's been an awkward day, to say the least. But now is not the time for-"

"Shut up, old man," Ressler shot back at him. "I'm done. I'm outta here. Do your own dirty work."

As he strode by Red, Aram completely forgotten for the moment as he continued scanning Clarke's chip, Liz followed him. "You can't leave!"

Ressler stopped and whirled on her. "Why the hell not? And you know what? I'm tired of you too. You and your whiny little 'I want this. No, I don't want this' attitude." His voice rose, imitating hers and she almost burst out laughing at how accurate he sounded. He was also apparently crossing the lines of role playing and truth.

Garrison Clarke shook his head in disgust at this interruption. As he began to turn toward Red, he suddenly became aware of the man hovering behind him as Aram shot a terrified glance to Red.

Ressler saw it too. Instantly he moved into Liz, finger pointing into her face, his voice low and rumbling. "You have no idea what you want. But I'll tell you what you really need. This."

He pulled Liz into him, arms around her as he held her tight against his lean frame. He felt every curve, every swell, every inch of her against him. And planting his lips firmly on hers, she struggled a moment as her eyes widened. Part of it role playing. The other part of it complete shock at her partner this close. This intimate. This hot against her. But the shock was momentary as her body melted into his hold. His lips were hard on hers as his tongue pushed through and invaded her mouth. Involuntarily, her mouth opened under him and took him in, sucking his tongue against hers. His hands were suddenly everywhere, seeking her out, grasping her to him. One hand found her waist and dropped to her butt, fondling the round curve with his large fingers. The other held her head with fingers running through her hair as he ravaged her mouth. And it took every ounce of control he had not to give in completely, drop her to the floor and take her right there.

Clarke's dismayed eyes flew to Ressler and Liz. Aram's eyes widened, his attention drawn to his colleagues display. Ressler had a good technique; he had to hand it to the man. The scan was almost complete and quickly averting his eyes he saw the gauge reach 100%. Quickly dropping the scanner in his shoulder satchel, he swept past Reddington.

"Mr Reddington, I'm sorry but I can't work under these conditions," he told him, his voice high pitched and agitated. He wasn't exactly role playing either. Scurrying away he threw a wide eyed glance at Ressler almost eating his partner alive. His admiration for Ressler went up a notch as he fled the room. The man was cool (and hot, he had to admit that) under fire.

Reddington exhaled loudly and throwing his hands up in annoyance he threw an exasperated look to Clarke. Turning his frustrated gaze on his two charges, afraid they'd start copulating in front of him if he didn't stop them, he raised his voice with authority. "If you two are done playing grab ass, I have business here with our host."

And not a moment too soon. Ressler's body was responding to Liz, hardening against her despite his own imagined ice bucket challenge to quell the flames. He quickly let go of his partner, panting as he did so, leaving her standing there flushed and open mouthed in front of him. His physical response had been unmistakable against her.

"THAT is what you need, woman." Ressler flung a final angry glance at her and stormed from the room, playing the final card in his diversion. Heart hammering in his chest, he was relieved that another blood filled part of his body wasn't visible to the occupants of the room.

Behind him, Liz stood a moment longer before running her fingers through her hair at a useless attempt to smooth it. Turning to Reddington, she beheld his gaze as he regarded her as a frustrated father might, shaking his head with an unmistakable 'what the hell are you doing?' look.

Liz faced Clarke. "I apologize for my… colleague. He can be a little, ah… emo…motional at times." Exhaling hard, the feel of her partner's hard body against hers still fresh in her mind, she managed a brisk smile to Clarke. Then without another glance to either of them, followed the cue of her two male coworkers and left the room quickly.

Behind her Reddington turned the charm on. "Now Garrison, where were we? I do hope this little staff problem of mine won't stop our meeting today."

###

As Ressler left the room he slowed his pace down, not wanting to catch up with Aram just yet. He stopped and leaned against a wall, willing his mind to think of anything but the feel of Liz against him. Anything but the way his body had responded against her. He wasn't sure why he'd grabbed her so… needily.  _I guess I'm just good at my job..._

_Right._

Needing to think of ANYTHING but Liz, he forced his mind to remember back to a darker time. Back to the box. Lying on a cold metal bed as Reddington jammed his thumb into his bloody, shattered thigh. That did the trick completely. Now more composed and his body under control again he went in search of Aram, finding him pacing outside by their vehicle.

As Ressler approached Aram, he ignored the man's nervous look and asked him. "Please tell me you got the information we needed after…that."

Aram stopped pacing when he saw Ressler, finally glad that he wasn't alone out here having been concerned that some English gardener would come and set the dogs on him. "Um, yes I did. Got it all. Right here. In my scanner. Just what we need, Agent Ressler," he replied, knowing he was babbling. His cool, confident colleague in front of him was in marked contrast to the hot and handy Ressler he'd left with Liz a few minutes ago. He wasn't sure where to look.

Ressler was nodding to him, fully aware of Aram's discomfort when Liz came out the door toward them. Standing with hands on hips, he turned his head and met her eyes, noting the hesitation then resolve as she approached. Dragging her eyes from his as she stepped onto the gravel driveway, she also looked to Aram. It was the safest place to look right now.

"Did we get it?" she asked him, all business for the moment.

"We got it. Right here-"

"On your scanner. Just what we need," Ressler finished for him, a small smile on his lips as he teased Aram. And he wasn't even sure why he suddenly felt so…good. Though he had a fair idea.

Liz knew exactly what he was doing. Sarcasm or an attempt at humor was always his first defense. Her eyes stole a glance to her partner. Just like Aram before her, she noticed the change in him now compared to a few minutes ago. She exhaled slowly.

"Yes," Aram replied "I'll um, just go and um…yeah," before turning and busying himself with something imaginary he absolutely needed to attend to at the rear of the vehicle. His feet crunching on the gravel, he went to look at the roses in the nearby garden beds. He didn't care about roses. Were these even roses, he wondered.

With Aram out of earshot, Liz looked at Ressler. Standing in the mid afternoon sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as his hair took on a more blonde tone her breath caught in her throat. There were times it shocked her how handsome he was. The tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, he waited for her to be the first to speak.

She took the safe route. The one that didn't address his obvious arousal against her just minutes ago. Nor hers for him. While less physically obvious it had been there nonetheless. "You okay?"

He regarded her a moment, before looking downward and suddenly breaking into that beautiful grin she witnessed so rarely from him. "I'm fine. You?" He looked back up at her as she nodded, smiling at him.

"Yeah. That was…" She stopped, looking to him and not finding the words.

Pursing his lips, he glanced away then back at her. "I did what I had to do to divert the guy's attention."

"Oh, you succeeded," she smiled. "And diverted ours too," she added, watching his blue eyes catch hers.

"Well, we're undercover, not dead, Liz," he told her, the smile still playing around his features.

She grinned at him and rolled her eyes in humor. Nearby, Aram heard Ressler's comment and blushed.

Liz's attention was now drawn behind Ressler as Reddington exited the house behind him. Still playing his part, aware that Clarke was nearby Red raised his hand in greeting.

"I do hope you two can put your differences aside so that we can make our way to our next stop, hhmm?"

"Yes, dad," muttered Ressler, as he opened the drivers door. As Liz climbed in the back seat with Red, Aram sat in the front passenger seat again.

"I heard that, Donald," said Red pleasantly. "Shall we go? Aram, I take it you were successful?"

From the front seat, Aram turned to Red, but was cut off by Ressler and Liz. "He got it," they replied in unison.

Reddington just laughed out loud at his three counterparts around him. "Outstanding." And returning his attention to Ressler as he stopped the car at the end of the driveway to turn back onto the road, he added "And you do remember that they drive on the other side of the road in this country, right Donald?"

"Of course."

"Just making sure, since I'm sure the blood rushed away from your brain back there," smiled Red conversationally, ignoring the flicker of Ressler's eyes glaring at him in the rear view mirror.

###

Back at the hotel, they gathered in Red's large, spacious suite. Ressler looked around, comparing it to his lowly economy room, wondering at the marked difference in accommodations but then decided it wasn't worth pursuing. Turning back to Aram who was huddled over his laptop on the large coffee table, he resisted the urge to ask again what was on the disk. Liz wasn't so restrained.

"So, is it what we came for?" she asked again as she sat beside Aram on the couch, looking at the screen with him.

Aram looked nervously up at Red, standing in front of him beside Ressler. Feeling a little overwhelmed with them all so expectantly waiting, he returned his attention back to his laptop. Where he found he was finally in his element. "I think so, but it's hard to be sure. There's a lot of information here and it appears to be in code, despite my encryption algorithms already deciphering most of it…" he said distracted by the information on the screen, then looked automatically to Red.

"Let me see," said Red and came and sat beside of Aram, sandwiching him between himself and Liz. Aram decided that looking at the safe computer screen was his best option.

"See, these are names. I'm sure, but they don't make sense." Aram pointed to a list on the screen as Red leaned forward.

"They don't make sense if you've never seen them before. But I have. Those are names of Government officials."

"Which government?" asked Ressler, hands on hips as he looked at the three of them sitting on the couch.

"All of them," replied Red cryptically, glancing up at Ressler. "And it is in code, you are quite correct, Aram," said Red thoughtfully as Aram looked through the information. "So it appears some that I thought long gone are still alive and apparently still active in the Cabal."

Ressler was about to ask what their next move was when Red leaned forward and pointed to the laptop screen.

"Wait. Go back," Red told Aram, who complied. "Well there's a name I didn't expect to see again. I thought he was long gone. That's who we need to find," he told them pointing to the screen, then leaning back with a little concern. "Interesting he'd be on their list though..."

Liz leaned forward and read the name on the screen. "Bust of Pallas? What is that?" she asked Red.

Before he could answer, Aram spoke up beside her, "It's Poe…" he said softly, almost to himself as he looked at the name on the screen.

"It's from 'The Raven'," Ressler added, as a long distant memory of College English Literature sprang to mind. He caught Red's raised eyebrows regarding him in bemused surprise and answered Red with his half smile. "I'm not completely uneducated."

Chuckling, Red faced them, again. "Quite right, gentlemen. We need to find The Raven," he said, looking at them with every confidence they could locate him.

"Who is he?" asked Ressler.

"He's someone very beneficial to have on our side as we seek out the Cabal," replied Red. "Aram, look for a Carter Brooke, and before that one of his aliases was Conrad Lukas. Oh, and also look for Colloidal Silver."

"Um…okay then, Conrad Lukas or Carter Brooke, where are you…" said Aram, now fully engaged with his laptop as his search began.

###

Within a few minutes Aram, ably assisted by Red with some of the code names, had made progress. As Aram hovered over the laptop, Ressler stood at the hotel window, hands in pockets as he looked at the view outside. Liz sat near him at the large dining room table.

"It's pretty here," she said, looking over the water. A large green island with sandy beaches occupied most of the bay, as small boats lazily made their way across the harbor. It was, he had to admit. A far cry from the city they were more familiar with.

"Hey, guys," said Aram, calling their attention back to him. "Okay, I found an unusually large order of medicinal Colloidal Silver being delivered regularly to a private post office box in Rockport, Maine. On further investigation, the name on that post office box is one Conrad Lucas. It's spelled slightly different, but it's the same name. I believe that's him, Mr Reddington."

As they crossed the room to join him, Aram suddenly leaned back from the laptop screen. "Whoa!"

"What is it?" asked Ressler, looking down at him now.

Aram's eyes widened as he peered closer at the screen. "Oh no... Someone has been watching my keystrokes." He looked up at them, horrified. "The chip in Garrison Clarke must have had an inbuilt safety protocol where it detects any attempt to read it, and then plants a tracker inside."

Red leaned over the laptop, "Can you stop the tracking, Aram? Shut them down?"

"I don't think so," he replied quickly typing something before shaking his head. "I have to just shut it down completely." And quickly disconnecting the laptop he powered it down and slammed the lid closed.

"Now what?" asked Liz, looking to Red.

"We need to find Conrad Lucas before the Cabal do," he replied quickly.

Aram looked up wide eyed, finished Red's sentence for him. "And we just showed them where he is. We've just endangered his life."

"They also have to know that we were the ones who read that chip today," added Ressler, looking sideways at Liz.

Behind them, Red was on the phone. "Mr Young, have them get the plane ready, we're leaving now."


	2. Rockport

After dropping the rental car off at the airport in Portsmouth, Red led the three agents to his waiting plane. It sat white and pristine in a hangar of the small airport, refueled and ready for them. As they walked toward it in the mid afternoon light a familiar sight greeted them at the foot of the stairs. Ressler had barely spoken to the man on the flight over, with having to deal with a nervous Aram almost the entire flight. But now he stopped as Young looked to Red.

"Why the sudden change of plans, boss?"

"Unforeseen circumstances, Mr Young. Inform Charles I have a course change for him," he said, waiting on Liz and Aram to ascend the ladder.

Ressler looked to Young, watching him in his role as Red's employee. Apparently in Reddington's world, previously having planted a bomb on their plane and causing it to crash in the snow was some kind of twisted job interview. A rite of passage. He glanced at Red, struck again at how everything and everyone could become a resource to the criminal. Including the FBI.

"Coming, Donald?" asked Red, climbing up the stairs in front of him as Young stepped aside.

"After you, G-Man," added Young with a humorous glint in his eyes. Ressler simply regarded him with a hint of a smile and shook his head a little before walking up the stairs and entering the jet.

###

As they levelled off at 35,000 feet, in true Red fashion of never travelling economy, they were served a first class meal. Ressler didn't feel like eating. Listening to Aram chattering nervously for the duration of the flight was giving him a stomach ache. Or perhaps it was the rich English meal with black pudding Red had insisted they try earlier that day. Either way, he fidgeted in his seat, trying to ease the discomfort in his gut. And listening to Aram wasn't helping. He'd never picked the guy as a nervous flyer. Though he was nervous about everything today, come to think of it. And the news he'd have to stay longer in the field with them had sent Aram into a complete spin.

Ressler would have gone to sit by Liz, but she napped the entire flight. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if napping was her way of avoiding discussing what had happened between them in front of Garrison Clarke. But as Aram started grilling him about how much longer he thought it might be before they returned to the Post Office, he drew his eyes of Liz and put his game face back on with Aram.

As their plane came in to land at Bangor International Airport, Aram was still talking Ressler's ear off. Liz had been awake for a little while, and she'd sent him plenty of sympathetic glances regarding his chatty companion. But in the end Ressler had just stayed where he was since they were descending.

"Oh, dear. It's raining. Hard. I don't have an umbrella," Aram worried as they taxied to the terminal.

"I'll buy you one," Ressler replied shortly. The plane was still rolling to a stop but Ressler was up, standing in the aisle and then moving toward Liz. As the plane lurched to its final stop, he grabbed the back of her seat to stay upright, wincing as he did so. Liz instinctively put out her hand to him as he pitched forward.

"Let's get outta here," he said, leaning over her, before reaching up and retrieving their overnight bags from the overhead bins. While Aram was talking to Red at the rear of the plane, Ressler made his escape, moving forward to where Young was opening the cabin door. As Ressler passed him, Young gave him another small smile before standing aside and addressing them in his best fake stewardess voice.

"Thank you for flying Reddington Air. Have a pleasant day. Buh bye."

Behind Ressler, Liz snickered at Young before exiting the plane, walking down the steps to stand with her partner in the hangar.

A silver BMW was already waiting beside the plane, testament to Red's organization working like a well oiled machine behind the scenes. Joined by Red and Aram, one by one they threw their bags in the trunk and climbed inside the car. Ressler again took the driver's seat as Liz climbed into the passenger seat beside him. With Red and Aram in the back, Ressler pulled out of the hangar and into the rain.

"So when we find Conrad Lucas, assuming we do, how do we know he'll talk to us? Sounds like he's consciously gone off the grid," Liz asked Red, turning slightly in her seat as the rain beat down on the windows, cocooning them inside.

"Oh, he'll talk to us, of that I have no doubt," he told her, and then glanced at Ressler. "Well, he will if Donald is front and center."

Ressler looked up at the criminal in the rear view, wondering what the hell he was up to now, before glancing sideways at Liz.

Aram eyed Ressler and voiced the question on all their lips. "Why…?"

"Oh, Donald is just his type," smiled Red, tilting his head as he looked at Ressler gritting his teeth and refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror. "Big, broad shouldered and blonde."

"Oh," replied Aram.

Ressler shook his head and hissed through his teeth, and looked in the rear view again. "I swear Reddington, one of these days," he told the criminal as Liz burst out laughing beside him. He rolled his eyes at his partner, "It's not funny."

"Yes, it is," she laughed as Ressler returned his eyes to the road and continued on toward Rockport.

###

The rain eased as they drove south, and as they reached the small coastal town of Rockport the clouds were scudding over the ocean, leaving patches of blue sky in their wake. As Ressler parked on the main thoroughfare they exited their vehicle and took in the surrounding view. The small fishing town sat on an enclosed bay, the bare masts of several yachts bobbing on the ocean swell. Seagulls floated on the air currents, their cries carrying up from the beach front.

Small businesses lined the street, full of tourist shops selling porcelain lighthouses and replicas of fishing vessels. A few restaurants and small mom and pop shops completed the row of one story buildings.

Sucking in a lungful of sea air, Red smiled. "Aaahh, never can get enough of that. Surely even you can appreciate the beauty here, Donald," he quipped, looking to the FBI agent beside him.

Ressler's eyes slid to Red. It was beautiful, but he wasn't going to give Red the satisfaction. "The Post Office is across the street. We should go talk to them."

Red chuckled, turning from the beach front and spying the small post office a block up on their right. "Yes, but not all of us. If we walk in there like an armed posse of Feds raiding the joint, no one will tell us anything," he said. "Lizzie, let's have you go in and find out when Conrad comes and gets his mail."

Looking to Ressler briefly, he nodded once in confirmation to her. Leaving the group she walked across the street and down toward the post office. As she walked away, the three men felt very conspicuous.

"We look like a gathering of funeral directors. Shall we?" Red indicated to a small park near their vehicle. A bronze anchor filled the centre of the memorial park, adorned with its tragic inventory of those lost at sea. Finding a couple of park benches in the shade that faced the direction Liz was walking, they sat, taking in their surroundings.

Apparently something was still on Aram's mind. "Mr Reddington, ah, what did you mean when you said that Agent Ressler is just his type…?"

Ressler shifted uncomfortably on his bench, not wanting to hear the answer. Red grinned as he readjusted his hat in the afternoon warmth and looked at Aram. "Well, let's just say that Conrad has an appreciation for the male physique."

"I see," replied Aram, not really seeing.

Ressler changed the subject somewhat, "What interest do the Cabal have in him?"

Red tilted his head a little in thought. "Well, he's caused them some problems in the past. When I knew him he had something that belongs to them. And the very fact that his name is still on their list, I can definitely make the assumption that they would still like it back."

Ressler knew Red would not be forthcoming on just what Lucas had taken from the Cabal. "Can he be trusted?" he asked, turning to the criminal to gauge Reddington's reaction.

"He's always been up front with me, Donald. But time can change a man. I haven't seen him in some twelve years. I thought he was dead, thanks to some intel that I now see was a red herring."

"So he really did go off the grid then, if you couldn't find him," said Aram, standing up as he saw Liz exit the post office.

"That he did, Aram. Though to be fair, I certainly didn't go out of my way to look for him once I heard he had been killed."

Liz returned a few minutes later, joining them in the shade. Stepping over Ressler's long legs that were stretched out in front of him, she sat down on the park bench beside him.

"What did you find out?" he asked her.

"Well, they were a little reluctant to talk until I flashed my charm…well, cleavage… at the young guy. Someone comes and collects his mail around 5:00pm every day. They have a large box to be picked up, so it should be easy to spot whoever leaves with that," she informed them.

Red looked at his watch. "Just over an hour from now. I don't know about the rest of you, but the salt air always gives me an appetite. I see a very quaint restaurant a little way down where we can keep eyes on the post office while we eat."

###

Entering the restaurant as a small bell rang above the door, they took a booth near the front windows, enabling them to keep an eye on the post office across the street. Red insisted on ordering for them, ignoring Ressler's comment that he'd just have coffee. As the waitress produced platters of fresh seafood before each of them a little while later, Aram looked at his plate of lobster in appreciation. He'd finally found something good about being in the field. As they ate in relative silence, Aram looked to Ressler who had barely touched his food.

"Agent Ressler, you don't like seafood?"

Red glanced up at Ressler, "Maintaining that girlish figure, Donald?"

Ressler shifted in the seat, his stomach feeling very uncomfortable now as he dropped his fork to his plate. "Excuse me," he said and he left the table for the restroom at the rear of the restaurant. Liz watched him walk away, her eyes narrowing.

Rejoining them at the table a few minutes later, Ressler sat down and waited while they finished their meals. "I take it there's no sign of Lucas yet. How will we know it's him?"

"Oh, we'll know," said Red, studying Ressler before him. Their meal finished, they left the restaurant and sauntered back to the vehicle in the late afternoon light. Liz hung back with Ressler as Aram and Red walked up front.

"What's going on with you?" she asked him, keeping her voice low as she leaned into him.

He slowed to a stop and faced her. "I guess I ate something that's trying to poison me," he shrugged, "but hey, I'm not dead yet," he smiled, glancing over at the post office.

They immediately turned back to each other at his comment. "Definitely not dead," she smiled, and then hesitated before adding, "So that's how we're going to handle this? We're just going to joke about it?"

Raising his eyebrows to her a little with his small smile, he didn't miss a beat. "Hey, it works for me."

It was safer to joke about it. Because no matter what he felt for her, it was a line he couldn't cross while they were work partners. And as their eyes locked, full of things they couldn't say to each other, he knew she understood that too.

"Come on, it's almost 5:00pm." Taking her by the elbow he turned her back toward the car, to where Red and Aram were standing nearby in the park. All eyes were on the post office. It was time, yet still no one had come and exited with the large package Liz had seen earlier.

###

Sitting in their vehicle, Ressler was almost ready to call it a day. The post office was about to close. No one had shown and it was looking like a bust. He was also considering asking Liz to take over the driving, but right before he did, a black SUV pulled up outside the post office. The similarity to their own Bureau vehicles was not lost on them. As the two male occupants walked into the post office, Ressler started their car, ready to follow them.

"Won't they know we're following them?" asked Aram from the back, but Ressler ignored him. It was a chance they were going to have to take on these quiet roads. As the two men came out of the post office with the large package, they placed it in the back then pulled back out onto the main street. Ressler eased out into the traffic and left the down town area. Turning north, they travelled along the coast road lined with trees on one side and the ocean on the other. Keeping a fair distance back from the SUV was a fairly simple process. There appeared to be no turn offs on this road according to the GPS, so there was only one direction their quarry could go. Keeping a couple of curves behind them, they proceeded for about three miles out of town, heading along the winding ocean road.

A large Seaside Inn came into view, sitting back against the trees with a view to the ocean through its open window shutters. To the side of the white painted inn, a black SUV idled, waiting to pull onto the road. Ressler eyed it warily, stealing a glance at the occupants as they drove by. Inside it were two men, looking unlike any tourists he'd expect to see around here. The men waited for them to pass before pulling up onto the road and settling in behind them. Red saw it too and spoke up.

"Donald, at the risk of sounding paranoid, or like our friend Aram here, I believe the occupants of that vehicle waited for us to pass and are following us."

"I know. Damn it," swore Ressler, as Liz looked quickly to him.

Aram slowly turned around, eyeing the car behind them, and swallowed hard. "Oh, dear."

As they approached a curve in the road, Ressler just knew something wasn't right. His gut was telling him loud and clear they were being set up – and it had nothing to do with the current gastric distress he was under.

"Ress!"

As they came around the curve the black SUV was stopped on the road in front of them. Parked side on, it had completely blocked their way.

"Shit," swore Ressler, hitting the brakes hard. He couldn't back up. The vehicle from the Inn was on their tail and had now swung around blocking any exit to the rear.

"Oh my…" whispered Aram in the back.

Ressler and Liz already had their weapons drawn. From the front car the two men exited, drawing weapons on them and walking steadfastly toward them.

"Get down!" Ress called to Red and Aram in the back, as he and Liz opened their doors, taking cover behind them. But they were outnumbered, Ressler already knew that. Kneeling down he aimed his weapon to the men approaching from the front. Liz had turned and was facing the two men now approaching from the rear.

"We're trapped, Donald. Don't fight it. You can't win this one." Red's voice of reason sounded from the back seat.

Ressler didn't turn to Reddington. Instead he looked through the car across to Liz. Even if Aram had been armed they'd still be outnumbered. Not that he held much confidence in the IT guy's ability to assist them in holding off 4 armed men.

Red opened his car door and stepped out onto the road.

"Mr Reddington! What…what are you doing?!"

"Damn it, Red. What ARE you doing?" demanded Ressler, now turning from the guns pointed in their direction to see Red step out from behind him into the road. Raising his arms and lacing his fingers behind his head, Red stood before the men and raised his steady voice to them.

"Gentlemen, I am Raymond Reddington. I am unarmed. I assure you we intend no harm to your employer, Mr Conrad Lucas. We come simply with a message. My colleagues here are the FBI. We are no threat to you."

Red's eyes held the unflinching gaze of the man in front of him. Standing silently around them, the four men let Red speak, but did not lower their weapons. Red glanced at Ressler and Liz, still kneeling with their weapons drawn.

"Donald. Lower your weapons. Now."

Ressler hesitated.

"Donald."

Gritting his teeth, Ressler looked to Liz again and nodded. Standing slowly, he held his weapon up in the air, then reached out and dropped it, letting it clatter to the road in front of them. Drawing her eyes from him, Liz then did the same on her side of the vehicle.

The men moved immediately. One ran to Reddington and held him at gunpoint from a few feet away. And one by one, the three remaining men approached their individual targets, picking up the two weapons from the roadway. The two men from the front stood by Red and Ressler, while the two from the rear held Liz in their sights and dragged Aram from the car on the other side of the road.

At Aram's strangled protest, Ressler cursed under his breath, trying to watch all four men at once.

"Gentlemen, I assure you, we are of no threat to you," continued Red.

"We have orders," said one of the men, and then nodded to his companions. Immediately the men held their weapons with one hand and retrieved something from their coat pockets with the other. Ressler tried to see what it was, but his view was blocked by Red and the car door in front of him.

"No!"

Ressler spun at Liz's cry, helpless to do anything. And as he saw a white cloth slapped over her mouth and nose by the gunman, stopping her struggle, he was aware of the same method being employed to overpower Reddington behind him.

"Damn it! No!" Ressler yelled at his own gunman before he could suffer the same fate. Hitting him hard in the nose with the heel of his palm, his attackers head jerked back. The strong smell of chloroform assailed Ressler's nostrils as Red was being subdued right behind him. Whirling and keeping his head down and away from the ether, he barged headlong into Red's gunman, dropping all three of them to the road way.

Dragging the cloth from Red's face, he elbowed the gunman who was rising, again sending him reeling. Behind him, he quickly realized the two gunmen from the other side of the car had successfully rendered Liz and Aram unconscious and were coming for him now. Spinning on them, he rose to his feet and faced them. It was four against one now and he was outnumbered, but didn't mean he couldn't hurt them. Kicking out with one sideswipe, he dropped his gunman again, hearing his head hit the side of their vehicle. Red's attacker was on his feet and with one swift move he grabbed Ressler's arms and held them behind his back. As he was forced to his knees feeling pain shudder through his belly, Ressler hit back with his head, ramming his skull into the man's nose. Hearing the satisfying sound of a bone cracking as the man howled, Ressler ducked his head as one of the other men took aim at him with his fist.

"Stop!" Liz's attacker held a gun in his face. "Stop, or I'll kill every one of them right now!" the man yelled, motioning to Red, Liz and Aram.

On his knees, arms held tight behind him despite his struggles to free them, Ressler glared defiantly up at the man. "He was telling you the truth. We are no threat to-"

A wet cloth was thrust roughly over his face from behind; the reek of chloroform so strong his eyes watered. Trying not to breathe, he threw himself back into his attacker. And as he did so he was held fast from the front as all three men now held him. He couldn't move. The fourth stood firm and held the chloroform to his mouth and nose. Straining, almost turning blue with holding his breath Ressler knew he was going down. And as his lungs strained for air, any air, even ether filled, consciousness robbing air, he opened his mouth involuntarily under the cloth and sucked in a lung full of chloroform. It immediately went to his brain, causing the roadway, car and men to spin violently around him.

_No! No!_

Still breathing in rapidly, he was falling now. Falling into that darkness and now only vaguely aware of the hands holding him as he fell forward, unable to kneel any longer. As he lost consciousness the road came up to meet him. His final thought was of Liz. Of holding her tight, feeling her soft and supple against him. Of pressing his lips to hers. And he couldn't help her. Couldn't help any of them.

And then there was nothing but blackness.

###

The first thing Liz was aware of was that her head hurt. As she struggled to remember where she was, she became aware that she way lying on something cold and damp. Her eyes wouldn't open. Trying to move her body was also an exercise in futility. There was a voice in the distance.

"Liz! Liz, wake up!"

She knew that voice. Who…? It was familiar. Aram. The memory came flooding back. Of being ambushed on the road and subdued against their will with ether. Her eyes sprang open now, and in the darkness she couldn't even tell if she'd opened them or not.

"Liz, it's me. It's Aram." His voice was close to her ear. "I don't know where the others are. I can't find Agent Ressler. I can't find Mr Reddington!" His voice rose, and she reached blindly for him.

She felt him now. Close to her. "Aram…" she whispered as her eyes slowly adjusted. It was night. Trees came slowly into view above her, swaying gently in the night breeze. The light of a half moon shone through the trees to her left.

"Where…"

"Can you sit?" he asked, not waiting for her answer. "I'll help you sit up," And then she was rising as his arms were under her shoulders, bringing her up off the cold damp grass underneath her. But it felt better. Not so suffocating.

"Breathe in deep. Take in deep, steady breaths of fresh air," he told her. She obeyed and within a few breaths, her brain started to clear.

He was kneeling beside her, looking anxiously into her face. "I don't have any water. I… I'm sorry," he offered.

"It's okay," she told him, reaching for his arm. "Help me up."

As he hauled her to her feet she leaned on his arm to steady herself. The scene around her became clearer. They were a little way off the road, judging by the sound of the waves reaching them from a short distance away. Their vehicle was nearby, shining in the pale moonlight, having been rolled down out of view of anyone passing on the road.

Aram's words sunk in.

"You can't find either of them?" she asked quickly, standing by herself now. As he shook his head in apology, she turned and headed to the car.

"I already looked. They're not in there."

Looking in the back seat, ignoring the brief wave of dizziness that caused, she could see he was right. They weren't in the vehicle. But a thought occurred to her.

"Pop the trunk!"

He looked at her, wide eyed in the dim light. "Oh god…" Doing as she asked, the trunk popped open and they both cautiously looked inside. Apart from their overnight bags, it was empty.

"Phew…" breathed Aram. In silent accord they both looked up to the road, then turned together and made their way up the slight incline. As he helped her, they slid a little on the damp grass, making their way up the slope. Two minutes later they stood on the deserted ocean road. There was no sign of either SUV that had ambushed them.

No sign of Ressler or Red.

Something glinted in the pale moonlight and Liz walked over to it and bent down to retrieve it. It was a phone. Turning it on, she saw Ressler's number come up on it. As her face lit up in the glow from the phone, Aram stepped beside her and met her eyes.

"It must have come out of his pocket during the ambush."

They stood together and looked up and down the road, the silence broken only by the soft roll and surge of the waves on the beach. And all Liz could think of was her missing partner. Unbidden, the memory of him lean and firm against her came to mind. Of him holding her tight as his mouth met hers.

"Where could they be?" Aram asked beside her, breaking into her thoughts. He looked at her with concern, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"I don't know…" she whispered, looking up and down the road before turning back to him.

"I don't know!"


	3. In the Moonlight

Donald Ressler had lost count of how many times he'd been knocked unconscious in his life. Each time he fell into the quiet blackness, a part of him remained. Aware that he was still there, yet unable to reach anyone. To most it would feel terrifying. To Ressler, it was a sanctuary. An escape from the real world. A place where he could regroup and gather his thoughts, muddled though they usually were. But this time was different. The chloroform that had rendered him unconscious had sapped his brain of memories and images that usually floated around him. This time there was no light to walk toward. No voice to follow back up to consciousness.

He sprang awake. One instant he was in the dark. The next he was awake and shielding his eyes from the bright light of a single bulb suspended above him, gasping out loud. The movement woke up the pain in his stomach as memories came flooding back. They had been on the road. They had been ambushed.

_Liz?!_

He bolted upright, his head pounding at the sudden movement. Sucking in a few deep breaths, he attempted to clear his foggy head as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was sitting on a hard, narrow bed in a small, dark bricked room. Red was near him, likewise lying on a similar bed. Of Liz and Aram, there was no sign.

"Reddington," he called, but the criminal didn't move.

Dropping his legs over the side of the bed, gasping at the flare of pain that caused in his stomach, he slowly rose to his feet. He stepped over to Red cautiously and leaned down, shaking the man's shoulder.

"Reddington," he called again, and this time Red's head moved slightly. Shaking him again, Red's eyes flickered open then quickly closed. Ressler knew just how he felt. "Just take some deep breaths and you'll feel better," he told him.

Leaving the man's side he looked around the room again. Their two cots were on the first and second walls, forming an L shape. On the third wall sat a table and a small sink, and in the opposite corner was a low wall offering very little privacy to the toilet behind it. He grimaced at the thought of it, with the way his stomach felt right now. And on the fourth wall, a solid metal door.

Trying the door he was not surprised that it was locked. Placing his ear to the cold metal surface for a moment, he listened, holding his breath. No sound reached him from the other side of the door. Leaning back from the door, he pounded on it, then stopped and listened again. Still no sound.

"Donald, you're giving me a headache."

"You already had a headache. It's from the ether," Ressler replied, not looking at Red behind him, before pounding on the door again. "Hey! You out there!" he yelled, hearing nothing from the other side. "Hey!" he yelled again, pounding on it again a third time.

"Damn it." He stepped back and turned to Red, spying a small window set back in the thick brick of the outer wall. Stepping gingerly onto his empty bed, he leaned against cold bricks of the wall to look through the window. His eyes were at ground level as he looked out. They were in a basement of some kind - or a cell. The scene outside was dimly lit in the light of the half moon, but he could make out a grassed area, then a high, dark brick wall encircling the building they were in. And beyond that, thick trees rose behind the brick wall.

"What do you see?"

Ressler turned briefly at Red's voice, then looked back out the window. "Not much. Grass, a wall and trees," he told him. "And no Liz or Aram."

He dropped down to his cot and sat again, grimacing as he did so. Leaning back on the end wall, he stretched his legs out along the length of the cot, not bothering to kick his boots off. Wondering if he still had his phone, he reached into his inside jacket pocket.

"Damn it." Of course it was gone.

Red was watching him and reached into his own pocket. As he produced his small flip phone, Ressler raised his head off the wall from behind him and looked at it warily.

"Why wouldn't they have taken that?"

"It does seem like a strange oversight, I must admit," agreed Red.

"Call Liz," Ressler told him, and then hesitated. "But that's probably what they want us to do, if they're tracking the signal."

Red looked at his small phone. "Oh, they can't track this phone. I have them specially modified so they're untraceable," he told Ressler matter of factly. "However, our captors could be listening in so I suggest we text. Here, you're faster with those thumbs of yours than me," he told Ressler and tossed the phone across to him.

Catching the phone one handed, Ressler immediately opened it up and texted Liz's number.

[Red and I are in a small cell. can see grass, high brick wall, trees on the far side. where are u? are u okay? -Ressler]

Hitting Send, he noted that Red's phone was down to less than 40% battery life. And waiting with baited breath, he let out a sign of relief as he saw the text go through. Score one for technology. His text was on its way to Liz and all he could hope for was that she was still able to receive it. He needed to hear from her.

###

Standing on the beachfront road, Liz reached for her phone. "I need to call Dembe. You call Cooper," she told Aram beside her.

As she dialed the number, willing it to answer she wondered just where he was. It seemed so strange for him not to be with Red. The phone picked up on the other end.

"Elizabeth, is everything okay?" he asked her.

"No. Everything is not okay. Red and Ressler have been taken!" she told him, speaking quickly.

"Where are you?" he asked her, his calm voice steadying her a little.

Stepping to the side of the road, aware they were on a curve and a car could come around at any moment, she stood on the gravel shoulder looking down at their vehicle in the grass. "We're near Rockport, Maine. We got ambushed and they were taken. Aram and I were left behind."

On the other end of the line, she heard him cover the phone and speak briefly to someone. "Elizabeth, I can't get there until late tomorrow. Raymond has insisted I take care of something for him."

She hadn't realized how much she'd been counting on him to come immediately and assist them. "Okay, got it. Get here as soon as you can, Dembe. I don't know where they are, but we're going to keep looking."

Looking over to Aram who was still talking with Cooper, she was slipping her phone back into her pocket when she heard the familiar ding of a text coming in. As she opened it and read it, her face lit up.

"Oh, yes! Aram!" Running over to him, she held up her phone.

He was still talking to Cooper but stopped to read the text she was holding up to him. "Oh! Sir, we just got a text from Agent Ressler! They don't know where they are but for now they're okay!"

As he told Cooper, she began typing her reply to Ressler, unable to keep the relieved smile off her face.

###

Ressler sat on the cot, waiting to see if Liz could reply. As he wiped a light sheen of sweat off his forehead, Red's phone lit up with Liz's return text. He smiled as he read it, then looked across at Red and tossed him the phone.

[So glad you two are okay! We're fine and still at the ambush point. We're talking to Cooper. Dembe will be here tomorrow. We are going to find you!]

Red quickly read her text. "Excellent. So for now we just sit tight, Donald," he said, stowing his phone back in his pocket.

Ressler stood up and shrugged his jacket off, tossing it on the small table near his cot. Rolling up the sleeves of his grey plaid shirt, he stepped over to the door again. "You really think I'm just going to sit tight? Then you don't know me at all, Reddington."

Pounding with his fist on the door again, this time he didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop until someone came. "Hey! You had better get down here!" he yelled. Behind him Red shook his head.

"I do admire your persistence, but really Donald, I don't believe anyone is out there. Trust me, you'd have woken the dead by now."

"Damn it. Someone is out there!" he called back to Reddington, still pounding on the door with his closed fist. But Red was right. They would have come by now, the racket he was making. Reluctantly he stopped and dropped his throbbing hand to his side.

And as he stood by the door listening on the other side again and hearing nothing, a wave of nausea rose in him. Swallowing it down, he stood and closed his eyes, keeping his back to Red. Trying to squash it down, he breathed steady. It didn't help.

"Shit."

Stepping quickly to the semi-private toilet he leaned over and dry retched, clutching his stomach as it lit up with fresh fire. "Oh god…" he panted, doubling over as nothing but bile came up.

"Donald?"

He couldn't answer Red, but gradually the nausea passed and he stood up. Still clutching his belly he walked to his cot and eased himself down.

"What did you eat that's got your system so upset?" Red asked him.

"I don't know. Probably something in England," he replied, leaning back against the back wall of his cot again.

"We ate the same food in England," said Red calmly.

"I know," said Ressler, trying to get more comfortable on the hard cot. "I'll be fine. We just need to get out of here." Leaning his head back on the wall, he closed his eyes and willed his gut to quit complaining.

And across the small room Red tilted his head slightly and looked at the agent with concern.

###

Liz and Aram walked back down the slope to their car. Standing by it, looking to see how far down into the grass it had sunk, they ascertained it probably could be moved back up to the road. Aram climbed into the driver's seat and started it up. As the engine fired the first time, he held his thumb up to Liz, watching from a few feet away. She smiled as he reached down and threw it in reverse.

Slowly, the car pulled back, leaving two trails of flattened grass in its wake. Positioning herself to his side, she walked beside the car, guiding him around small bushes in the moonlight and back up the slope. Slowly, he reversed up the slope. When they reached the road she stepped back up onto it while he waited. It wouldn't pay to reverse and have a car slam into them as it came around the bend. But they had not seen one car. She'd never seen such a deserted road. Making sure it was clear, she waved him forward and he reversed until he was back up on the road. Jogging to the passenger seat she climbed in and turning back the way they had come, Aram drove toward the Inn they had seen.

"Ressler said it has a large brick wall around it. We can ask at the Inn and see if they have any idea where that may be. Surely they can't be far," she said, trying to convince herself of that.

Rounding a curve they saw the Inn further down on their right. Shining like a beacon on the deserted road, her spirits rose a little as they came closer. Pulling in and parking, they exited the car. Opening the trunk, they grabbed their respective overnight bags. Liz felt her stomach clench a little at the sight of Red and Ressler's bags in there, unclaimed and unneeded.

Aram stood beside her and spoke quietly, "We'll find them Liz. Director Cooper will send the HRT tomorrow if we don't."

"We need to have an idea of where they are first or HRT will be searching the entire eastern seaboard."

He didn't reply to her, just looked at her and nodded before they walked up the front steps to the large inn. Entering, they walked through the comfortable lobby and approached the front desk.

"We'd like a couple of rooms, thanks," said Liz tiredly to the clerk.

The woman smiled and reached for two keys. "You're in luck, we still have two ocean side rooms available," she told them as Liz handed her a credit card. Liz was relieved at that, not so much that they'd see the ocean, but they'd have a view of the road if the occupants of the black SUV's decided to come back.

"The restaurant is open till 10pm, if you folks would like to eat," she added as she handed them the keys. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks. Actually, we have some friends we met on the road and they told us they live near here. Big house with a high brick wall around it. Does that ring any bells with you…?" Liz asked the woman.

She thought a moment, shaking her head slowly. "No, can't say it does. Most folks around here wouldn't dream of blocking the view with a wall."

Liz felt her spirits drop and after thanking her, they climbed the stairs to the first floor and each entered their adjacent rooms.

"I'll get my laptop set up, Liz, and we can start looking at map and satellite imagery. We may find it fairly quickly that way," Aram told her as he paused at his doorway.

"Thanks, I'll be in there soon," she said and entered her room. Entering, she closed the door behind her then leaned back heavily on it. "Where are you?" she whispered. "Ress…where are you?"

###

Just as Ressler was reconsidering banging on the door again, tired of sitting around doing nothing, they heard a sound outside. Red turned his head and looked at him as they rose from their cots. Standing, they faced the door as they heard a key rattle in the lock. It almost made Ressler laugh out loud. It sounded just like one of those cliché large jailers key rings from movies.

The door swung inward, and as it did so Ressler instinctively took a half step in front of Red.

"About time someone showed up," Ressler told the first man who entered the room, noting with satisfaction it was the one whose nose he'd broken. "How's that nose doing?"

The man glared at him, but said nothing as a second man entered. They didn't close the door, and peering behind both men, they saw a hallway in the same dark brick as the cell they were in.

"What is this place? Why are you holding us here?" demanded Red.

The men said nothing, as a third man came in with a tray with two covered plates of food and a pitcher of water. Bypassing them he placed it on the table, after moving Ressler's jacket out of the way. He turned to them.

"No knives and forks gentlemen, but you should be able to manage," he told them, then exited behind the two men standing guard over Red and Ressler.

"I thank you for feeding us. However, I must insist we speak with your employer. Please tell him that we are no threat to him. We are the FBI, and friends. He is in danger. The Cabal know where he is," Red told the broken nosed man before him who simply looked at him and said nothing.

"Donald, I swear, these men have perfected the 'strong, silent type' even more so than you, my friend," said Red in frustration, looking at Ressler next to him.

Ressler wasn't listening. Instead he charged at the man in front of him and aimed for his broken nose again, slamming his fist into the man's face. The man staggered back, hollering as fresh blood ran from his broken nose and his eyes streamed with tears. The second man moved, but Ressler was quicker and had slammed his elbow into the man's throat before he could react. He went down, and with both men aside and the doorway standing open in front of them, Red didn't need an invitation.

"Run!" Ressler yelled back at Red, flying through the open doorway.

Unsure which way to go, Ressler chose left and ran down the dark hallway. Other metal doors were at regular intervals down the hallway. More cells. Was anyone else held here, he wondered.

_What the hell is this place?_

Behind them, footsteps could now be heard. "Run!" he yelled at Red, only to find that Red was passing him.

"Donald, you're running slower than my grandmother. Move!"

It was true. The pain in his gut was slowing him down, and redoubling his efforts he ran a little faster as pain shuddered through his stomach with every pounding stride. They rounded a corner and were faced with a closed door. Red reached it right before him and trying the round handle it held firm as Ressler literally slammed into the door and Red.

"Shit!" he yelled in pain and frustration, trying the handle to no avail before hitting the unforgiving door with his shoulder.

Behind them running footsteps rounded the corner and the two men faced them with weapons drawn. Blood was streaming down the broken nosed man's face, as he faced Ressler.

"Just give me a reason, Fed. Just give me one damn reason, and I will pull this trigger."

Red stepped toward the man. "Look at me. I am Raymond Reddington, and I demand to speak with Conrad Lucas."

The man stood firm, gun on Ressler.

"You should listen to him," said Ressler, panting as he hunched over slightly. "You wouldn't like it when he gets angry."

The other man held his weapon on Red, a large red welt already appearing on his throat where Ressler had hit him. "Get back in your cell."

They still didn't move. Broken nose moved closer and put his gun against Ressler's forehead. As the cold metal touched his head, Ressler looked into the man's eyes. And what he saw made him comply. Cold hatred. The man wanted to pull the trigger.

"Fine. We'll be good little prisoners and go back to our cell," said Ressler leaning back away from the barrel of the gun an inch.

The man stepped aside and shoved Ressler hard in front of him. Pitching forward, he managed to stay on his feet and walked back down the hallway as Red and the two gunmen followed.

Swearing to himself, unable to believe this situation, Ressler stayed silent. Red's words were echoing in his mind. Three times now he had demanded to speak to Conrad Lucas. If they had been captured by his employees, why weren't they being taken to see him? It didn't make sense.

Reaching the open door of their cell, Ressler reluctantly stepped inside. He'd made a move and it hadn't been successful. But there was another direction to turn down the hallway. He'd remember that next time. Red was thrust into the room and the door was slammed behind him. Standing facing the door, they turned to look at each other.

"Perhaps you should have turned right."

With the two guards gone, Ressler gave in to the vicious pain cramping in his stomach. Doubling over, he closed his eyes as he turned to his cot, nodding at Red.

"Yup," he managed, laying on his side with eyes closed, drawing his knees up in an effort to alleviate the pain.

"Donald…I'm not so sure this is food poisoning," said Red, leaning down to look at the agent panting in distress.

"Shut up, Red… just shut up…" and with an effort, Ressler rolled over and turned his back on Red, not wanting to hear it.

###

As Liz knocked on Aram's door, he called her in. His laptop was all set up, and he had the satellite and ground level imagery of their surrounding areas up on the screen. Pulling another chair up for her, she sat beside him. Handing him a Coke from the vending machine, he cracked open the can and together they started on their virtual grid search for a large property nearby with a high brick wall surrounding it.

Aram already had a system going, his logical brain kicking into gear. Moving to each home on the satellite view, he then zoomed in as far as he could go. They'd look and when no wall appeared, he zoomed out again and continued on to the next home toward the west. When he had searched 10 miles from the coast, he moved up and began searching the homes in an eastward direction back to the coast. And in this manner they sat hunched over his laptop, looking at the homes one by one. After an hour, Liz leaned back and stretched her shoulders.

"Is there a quicker way? Look at all those homes…" she said, looking at the zoomed out images.

Aram looked at his laptop as if it would give him the answer. "Wait, does Agent Ressler travel with a laptop? Does he maybe have one in his overnight bag?"

Liz rose to her feet, fishing the keys out of her jeans pocket. "I think so! I'll go check." Heading from the room, she passed the door to her room and sprinted down the stairs. As she passed the desk clerk, she asked if everything was okay.

"Yeah, just forgot something from the car," Liz told her, crossing the lobby to walk outside into the cool night air. Crossing the parking lot to their car, a sound reached her. It was just an owl, hooting in the night air. Perched up in a tree with the moonlight shining behind him, he was silhouetted as he hooted to her. Smiling at the night bird she went to turn back to their car, when the vehicle below the owl caught her eye. It was a black SUV.

Walking slowly toward it, her right hand gripped the butt of her weapon, but she didn't draw it. Slowly she peered in the rear of the SUV. There was the package from the post office. It was the vehicle they had followed. Quickly drawing her weapon now, she tried the rear door. To her surprise it opened. The vehicle was empty and looking closer at the box, she lifted the tape to open it. Not wanting to draw attention, she did not turn on her phone light or use her flash light. Peering into the box, she saw bottles. At least a dozen of them. Picking one up, holding it up to the moonlight and faint light coming off the Inn, she read the label. Colloidal Silver. Red had mentioned to look for it, and here it was. Gallons of the stuff. Replacing it back in the box and resealing the tape as best she could, she slowly closed the tailgate of the SUV.

Making a note of the plate number, she approached the front of the vehicle and carefully opened the passenger door. There was nothing laying in the vehicle that she could see, so she popped open the glove box. A wallet spilled out, and moving her sleeve down to cover her fingers, she carefully opened it.

It was a Federal ID. It was the CIA.

"Oh my God…" she whispered, and quickly placed the ID back in the glove box. Hurriedly closing the passenger door she jogged back over the parking lot and ran back up to the deck of the Inn. Slowing as she entered the lobby, she smiled at the desk clerk, then resisted the urge to run up the stairs.

Reaching Aram's room she knocked and as he let her in she pushed quickly past him. "So he didn't have a laptop in-"

"Aram," she faced him, touching his sleeve, "They're here! The men that ambushed us are here!"

The urgency in her voice startled him, and as the color drained from his face he whispered, "Oh no."

"But they weren't Conrad Lucas's men. They're the CIA – the Cabal." Hurrying to his desk she began to shut his computer down. "We need to go."

Quickly moving to gather his belongings and toss them in his bag, she turned to him. "I'll go grab my gear and be right back in here.

"No. Liz, we're not separating. Stay here and then we'll go together," he told her, and his tone surprised her. He sounded almost confident. Almost brave.

"Good idea," she told him with the smallest hint of a smile and then set about putting up his laptop so they could get out of there. "We'll need to go out the back. I don't want to go past that desk clerk again with fully laden bags. I'm not sure who to trust anymore."

She watched him as he zipped up his bags and stood with her to head to her room next.

"Well, apart from you, Aram," she smiled and his face lit up as he reached past her and opened the door to the empty hallway.

###

Ressler woke slowly, fighting his way back up from a dreamless sleep. He felt warm, sweaty and uncomfortable, but the pain in his gut had settled to a more manageable level. Opening his eyes he found he was still facing the wall on his small, hard bed. Looking at his watch, the hands glowed in the dark. 1:05am. He'd slept for about three hours. Gingerly rolling to his back, grimacing as his stomach burned with pain, he looked over to Red. He appeared to be asleep, but who could tell with a man who slept with one eye open.

With an effort, he rolled to his other side and then sat up on the edge of the bed. One of the plates of food on the table sat mostly empty and discarded. Well, at least one of them had eaten. Slowly rising to his feet, he stood a moment before using the small toilet to empty his bladder. As he turned back into the room, he stepped toward the door just for the sake of it. Turning the metal handle down, he was surprised when it gave.

And shocked when the door opened.

"What the…" Red was looking at him in the darkness, having heard the door open.

"Wait here," Ressler whispered to him and gripping his lower stomach, he entered the hallway. It was empty. Red was now behind him, having ignored his suggestion to wait. Handing Ressler his jacket, he gently pushed him toward the right end of the hallway.

"That way!" Red whispered and together they walked quickly to the end of the hallway. Expecting someone to appear at any second, they stopped at the corner and stole a look around into the next corridor. It was empty. Ressler looked back at Red. This was too easy.

Red knew it too, but motioned with his hand to go. Ressler turned and led them down the next hallway. They were in a basement level, the hallway dark and lined with large bricks just like in their cell. Halfway down the hallway they came to a stone staircase leading upward.

"In for a penny," whispered Red and together then stepped onto the stairs. As Ressler took the first step, he gasped as the muscles complained in his gut. Gritting his teeth as each step lit a fire in his belly, they climbed the steps. As they reached the top, some 12 steps up, Ressler stood panting in the dark leaning against the cold brick wall.

They were in another hallway, and this time they could see faint moonlight shining through sheer translucent drapes on the windows. Ressler stood up from the wall again and nodded to Red. "Okay," he whispered.

Leading Ressler by the elbow, Red turned them down the hallway, looking for a doorway. They didn't find one, but what they did find was a large picture window half open, letting the moonlight in as a gentle breeze moved the sheer drapes.

"It's a trap. Has to be," whispered Ressler, but they took it anyway.

Red climbed through first, then helped Ressler. Grimacing as his stomach clenched in agony, he got through the window and stepped onto the grass, standing hunched over with hands on his knees. Moving away from the house now at a jog, Ressler just concentrated on following Red. Because to do anything else required too much attention. And gripping his stomach, he panted as he kept his eyes on Red's hunched back as they made their way across the compound to the high wall.

Leaning against it in the dark, the bricks cold and damp beneath their palms, they looked back toward the building they had escaped from. It was large and more like a hotel than a house. Or perhaps an old hospital. Run down in parts, the two story building was old and in desperate need of some care and attention. Ivy climbed up areas of the dark brick walls, leading up to an overhanging tiled roof. The windows were dark. There was no sign of life in the building.

They didn't have time to wonder what purpose the building served, or had served. Or if anyone was watching them. Moving along the length of the wall they came to a drive way with the gates open.

"Too easy," Red whispered again.

Ressler all but bumped into Red as he stopped. "Let's go," he panted and followed Red through the gates. Needing to get out of the open they turned to the trees, and after walking briskly through them for a few minutes, Ressler felt his stomach loosening again. He donned his jacket despite how warm he felt, simply tired of carting it around.

Stopping, he clutched the trunk of a small, smooth tree and sunk to his knees. Red stopped and turned back, seeing him drop.

He walked back to Ressler and looked into his flushed sweaty face with concern.

"Donald."

Ressler panted in pain, gripping the tree trunk and didn't look at Red. His stomach let loose again and he leaned over, all but laying on the ground as he vomited bile again.

"Donald, there is something I need to check."

Feeling Red's hand on his shoulder, Ressler opened his eyes and looked up at Red, licking his bottom lip before he answered, "What?"

"Would you let me feel your stomach?"

Ressler looked at him as his breathing steadied a little. "I'm fine. It's just food-"

Red was kneeling now, talking close to him. "You know how Lizzie calls you stubborn? It's not always a good trait. Roll onto your back."

Clutching the tree in the moonlight, Ressler didn't do it because of Red. He did it at the mere mention of Liz. Sliding to the ground and falling back onto the damp grass, he looked up in the trees, seeing the soft glow of the moon. Seeing Liz in his mind. And right now, he'd give anything to have her there with him, selfish as that was.

_Liz…_

And as Red placed his hands on Ressler's stomach and pressed in, Ressler flinched but held his tongue. Until Red pressed on the lower right side. Pain radiating knife-like across his belly as Red let go, the resulting howl from Ressler telling them both what they didn't want to hear.

Red lightly rested his hand on Ressler's sweating forehead as he looked down at the prone agent.

"Donald, my friend…you have appendicitis."


	4. The Lighthouse

Liz opened the door to her hotel room cautiously, after looking through the peep hole in the door to make sure the coast was clear.

"Let's go," she told Aram, and laden with their overnight bags, they quickly exited the room and walked along the corridor to the rear stairwell. Peering down and seeing no one in sight, they hurried down the stairs together. The stairs brought them to the rear of the lobby near the darkened dining room and double doors leading to the rear garden. While brightly lit, the hallway was empty. Aram motioned to the door and they headed straight for it, after a furtive look toward the lobby. The desk clerk was nowhere in sight. Passing the dining room Aram was approaching the door when a voice spoke up beside him.

"Is something wrong? You're leaving?" the desk clerk asked them, almost colliding with Aram as she exited the dining room.

All but jumping back in surprise into Liz right behind him, he faced the woman. "Ah, no… um, we just need to leave early. Like, now," Aram told her with a quick nod to the rear door.

"Oh I see," she said. She'd seen worse ways of leaving their establishment before. "Let me finalize your bill and I'll credit one of the rooms for the night for you, since you can't stay," she told them helpfully, smiling as she stepped toward the front lobby.

Liz took the woman by the arm, stopping her. "Look, we need to leave quietly and in a hurry. I got word that my…husband… is coming here. And we," she motioned to Aram, "can't have him see us together," Liz quickly told the woman, silently begging her to just let them walk away.

The woman nodded in understanding, and tapped her nose. "Right you are sweetheart. You kids go, and if he shows up, I'll be none the wiser. What does he look like?"

Aram stepped up, "Oh, you can't miss him. Big. Broad shouldered. Blonde. Kinda scary, actually," he told the woman. And turning a little to Liz, he gently pushed her through the doorway behind him.

"Come on… honey, we're going."

###

"Can you stand?" Red asked him, and Ressler nodded. Rolling to his side and gathering his knees under him he rose to his feet, using the small tree trunk to pull himself upright.

"I'm afraid we likely have quite a bit of walking to do before we can get you seen to," Red told him, his hand on Ressler's upper arm.

Standing up as straight as he was able, Ressler gave him a small smile in the dim light of the moon. "Walk in the park, right?" Looking behind them, half expecting a mob of dogs and shouting men to appear in the distance, it was rather disconcerting that there was nothing. But at the same time, it was also a huge relief. He didn't feel like outrunning anyone right now.

Red chuckled and patted Ressler's arm before searching the surrounding wooded ground. He found what he was looking for. "Here you go, this might help," and producing a fairly straight limb that would double quite well as a walking stick and crutch he passed it to Ressler who took it gratefully. Propping himself up on it he stepped away from the tree.

As Red kept pace with Ressler, they walked through the tall trees. A sound reached them from the distance. "What is that?" asked Ressler, turning his head slightly.

"Only the most beautiful sound in the world, my friend. Ocean waves. Crashing against a rocky shoreline by the sound of it. Excellent," he beamed, "but that's not the only good news. Look over there."

He pointed off to the left through the trees. "See it?"

At first Ressler saw nothing but dark trees, until a soft beam of light circled briefly through his field of view before vanishing again.

"A lighthouse," he said, watching through the trees as the distant beam came around again. That small light in the distance suddenly made all the difference to their situation. "Let me have your phone again," he asked Red, who handed it to him. "It should be safe to make a call now."

Leaning on his makeshift crutch, he dialed Liz's number, hoping he wasn't compromising her if she was somewhere she couldn't answer.

"Red? Oh, thank goodness!" she answered breathlessly.

"Guess again," he told her, briefly looking away from Red and smiling as he heard her voice in his ear. In pain and inwardly a little concerned at his predicament, he had needed to hear her. He just hadn't realized how much.

"Ress! Where are you?"

He heard Aram's voice near her. Looking up at the trees as they stood under them he tried to explain their surroundings. "Not sure exactly. We're heading for a beach, underneath heavy trees and we can now see a distant lighthouse off to our left-"

"To the North," prompted Red.

"I heard him, Ress. Okay, north, so Aram and I going to look on our maps for lighthouses on the coast and then we'll start narrowing down where you are. Are you guys safe? What happened that you're out in the open now? Are you okay?"

Ressler leaned on his crutch as she bombarded him with questions, swallowing as another round of pain and nausea threatened. Closing his eyes, he couldn't speak to her without her hearing it in his voice. And leaning further forward, he handed the phone to Red.

"Lizzie, we're heading for the beach and we'll be approaching the lighthouse from the south. We just left a large structure that looked somewhat like an old hospital or prison," he told her while looking to his cohort leaning heavily on his crutch. "The battery on my phone isn't going to last long. We'll call again when we're able to," he finished as he hung up and flipped the phone closed

"Why didn't you tell her?" Red asked Ressler, already having a pretty good idea.

"Same reason you didn't," he told Red, meeting his eyes in the moonlight and without waiting for a reply he began walking again, panting with each step as they headed for the sound of the waves and the distant beacon of light.

###

Having left the Inn, they had headed back to Rockport and parked near the little park they'd been in that afternoon, this time on a smaller side street rather than main road. Afraid of pursuit at first, their fear had lessened somewhat at the deserted roads. There was no traffic to speak of. A soft light shone in their car window from nearby street lights. While Liz had kept the engine running and their windows down for fresh air, Aram had retrieved his laptop from the back seat and plugged it in. From the driver's seat she looked at his laptop screen as they began their grid search again.

They had been searching in this manner for over an hour, their progress slowed by their continual looking around them or in the rear view mirror for sign of the black SUV. It was slow, tedious work. Aram had called Samar, and she and Cooper were also doing the same thing now, pouring over satellite imagery of the Maine coast. But still, they needed to get done faster.

"There's just nothing that looks like what Ressler told me… Where could they be?" she asked him, leaning back heavily in the driver's seat. Looking through the windshield, the stars shone over the ocean, the afternoon clouds having dissipated. She never saw stars like that in the city. The yachts bobbed on the ocean in the soft light of the moon and it was peaceful. It was beautiful. And yet her brain couldn't take it in and truly appreciate it. Thinking again of Ressler's description of what he could see, she was startled as her phone rang. As she retrieved it from her pocket and saw 'Nick's Pizza' she smiled broadly. "Oh, my gosh! We could be about to find out!"

Aram listened as she spoke to Ressler and then Red, and at the word 'lighthouse', he immediately texted Samar the new details, then ran a search on every lighthouse on the coast of Maine. There were lot, but now the search parameters had narrowed. Now they were getting somewhere.

###

"Do we need to stop, Donald?" Red asked him, as Ressler again leaned against a tree and dry retched. He was beginning to wonder just how much further he could walk. But he had no choice if they were to find the road and make contact with someone. To stop would be worse.

"No. I'm fine…I'm just bonding with these trees," he answered Red, drawing himself back up then doggedly putting one foot in front of the other as they approached the coast. He didn't look at Red, and just kept his eyes focused on the ground beneath his feet. He was wanting to get out from under the trees now. Because now every time he stopped as his stomach roiled, he was back in Sitka, Alaska as the withdrawal had started in earnest – as he was being hunted. He was really disliking the similarity. Because that hadn't ended well for him either.

Deliberately forcing his mind back to the present, he spoke to Red. "They should be searching for us" he said quietly, looking back behind them. "This isn't right…"

Red was just as concerned, and shook his head. "I think they're following us. I believe they let us go to find Conrad Lucas. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Ressler regarded him as his pace slowed a little more. "Which means those guys don't work for Lucas."

Eyes lifting to look at the closer beam of light, Red sighed. "Exactly."

"But we don't know where he is," Ressler panted, beginning to slow even more, stepping carefully and leaning on his crutch.

"No, we do not," said Red, then reached his hand out to Ressler's arm. "Donald, let's take a break."

He shook his head in reply and kept walking. Because if he stopped now, if he sat down to rest, he didn't think he'd ever be able to get up and continue.

"Stubborn," Red smiled, and moving to Ressler's left side, he put his arm around him in support. "Well, if I can't get you to rest, I can at least help you get where we're going, my friend."

Ressler looked down at him silently. And lifting his left arm he put it around Red's offered shoulder gratefully. And now the memories weren't of Sitka. Now they were of a fake hospital and Liz holding him up. Turning his head from Red, he looked steadfastly forward and concentrated on one step at a time.

###

"Oh, my goodness…"

Liz looked over at Aram quickly, "What?"

"Look how many lighthouses there are up the coast. There are dozens. That's still a lot of areas to search," he told her, shaking her head. He picked up his phone again and texted Samar, then hit Send.

"What did you tell her?

"I'm having her and Director Cooper search around the lighthouses to the south of Rockport. We will only concentrate on the ones to the north. The car we initially followed from the post office was heading north. Before, um…" he stopped and looked at her.

She nodded to him, "That sounds like a good plan. Come on, let's start with the nearest one. In fact, you know what, let's drive up to it. Keep looking on your computer while we head up there," she told him, finally glad to be doing more than just sitting looking at a computer.

Aram smiled and nodded to her, pulling his seatbelt on. "We're going to find them, Liz."

"We need to," she told him, now pulling out into the street and turning back onto the coast road to head north.

"Because I know my partner, Aram. And he was holding something back. He wasn't telling me everything."

###

The lighthouse was much closer. The beam now visible on the tree trunks each time it came around bringing a soft green glow to the dark leaves. They had turned and were walking slowly and determinedly toward that beacon.

"You going to make it?" Red asked, feeling the agent's weight increasing across his shoulders as Ressler leaned more on him.

Ressler only nodded, saving his breath for walking.  _I'll damn well make it. Or die trying._ He then rethought his choice of words. He didn't feel like dying today or any time soon.

"Come on then, we're getting there."

Ressler soon got his wish. The trees were thinning out quickly now, the space between them increasing as they made their way slowly to the lighthouse. More sky was visible above them, and through gaps in the trees ahead he saw the stars. So many of them. He almost wished he could stop and admire the view, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. He dropped his gaze, again looking at the ground at his feet as they plodded on together.

A few minutes later Red spoke up. "Look, Donald."

As Ressler lifted his eyes he saw it slightly to their left ahead of them. The upper part of a pale white column rising into the sky between the trees, the beam of light shining bright from the reflector as it rotated.

He smiled. And this time he did stop to admire the view. "Think there's anyone in there?"

Red continued looking toward it. "Doubtful. The old ways are mostly gone now and it's all automated. But we may get lucky if this is a tourist lighthouse with a caretaker and a gift shop."

Ressler looked sideways at him. He seriously doubted they'd ever get that lucky. Nodding for Red's sake he exhaled heavily and started walking again.

The trees gave up completely now, the rocky ground too much for their root systems. They walked out from under them and into the open space. The ground was rough in spots with larger boulders making the going more difficult. Skirting around them and keeping to a small pathway that was no more than a soft indent in the dry mud, the ocean lay to their right as the ground dropped sharply away to the water's edge. Inching closer to it, now they saw the entire lighthouse before them. Set on a small rocky outcrop as the waves crashed around its base, the beam lit up their surroundings with each rotation.

Ressler raised his head and looked up at the white structure above them and could have cried with how majestic it looked. He'd never been one for boats and beaches. But that lighthouse, rising tall and protective from the rocky coast was a thing of beauty. Beside him, Red spoke, looking at the agent.

"It gets you right here, doesn't it?" he asked Ressler quietly, pressing his hand to Ressler's heart as they stood together.

Ressler simply nodded. It did.

"Come on, let's go see if anyone's home, shall we?" said Red and they moved off again, making their way carefully over the increasingly rocky ground.

As they approached the base the ground dropped, bringing them closer to the crashing waves on the rocks. Ressler reluctantly had to forego his crutch as the ground was too steep and rocky for it. Unable to walk side by side, Red now walked in front down a small pathway in the rocks, leading them to the base of the tower. Ressler followed, trying not to look at the ocean waves getting closer with each step. So close to them now that their salty spray was catching them on the soft breeze.

What had now become abundantly clear though was that no one was going to be home. There was no home at its base. No car parked nearby. And no gift shop. But still they approached it, needing to see if there was a way inside. Its sheer height would give them what they needed, even in the dark - the ability to see more of their surroundings. And somewhere to shelter.

As his stomach began to lurch again Ressler stopped, leaning against the rocks away from the ocean waves. Red kept walking, unaware the agent had stopped and as Ressler's stomach let loose again he fell forward, landing heavily on his knees. The pain shuddered through him as he dropped to the ground, unable to kneel as he vomited again.

Red's voice came to him now, calling to him in the dark as he came back up the path. And turning his head a little in the criminal's direction, Ressler saw him coming back into view as the beam swept by them. "I'm… okay!" he called out. Grimacing at the effort, he dropped his head as he forced himself to his knees. And as he rose to his feet, gripping the rocks to his left, he looked back up.

And saw an empty path.

"Reddington?" he called out, turning and looking around him. There was no reply.

Taking a few steps down the path, Ressler called again. Still no reply. Looking around wildly now, cursing the fact he had no flashlight, then realizing he had the biggest flashlight in the world in front of him, his eyes shot to the ocean below him. Silently begging that he wouldn't see a body floating, he called out again.

"Reddington! Where the hell… are you?!" Clutching his stomach, he called out again.

Still making his way down the path to the approximate point he'd last seen Red, he scanned the rocks below him as the light came round again.

"Shit! Where the hell?" And as he focused his eyes on the rocks below the path he saw something in the brief beam of light. Red's fedora.

"No!"

He hesitated for two seconds, then sprang into action, his own discomfort ignored. Scrambling down from the path, balancing on the rocks as he climbed down them, he pitched precariously close to the water as he retrieved Red's hat. He tossed it back toward the path, his only thought that the criminal would not be happy if he lost his hat. He suddenly realized the absurdity of that and searched the water. The spray was hitting him full on now, as he stopped two feet from the water's edge.

"Reddington!"

Trying to quell the rising panic in him, he strained to see something. Anything. And when he finally did see it in the beam of light, his heart leapt. Red was floating in the water approximately ten feet off shore.

"Oh, God."

He didn't even stop to think about what he was doing as he jumped into the water to approach the floating form. The water shocked his senses with how cold it was. He hadn't been expecting that. Feeling the rocks below his feet was both reassuring and terrifying as he half swam, half jumped to the criminal. The waves pushed at him relentlessly. A large wave made him jump up as he swallowed salty water and briefly lost sight of Red. Coming down off that wave, he came closer, relieved to find Red was on his back.

Struggling, he reached out his arm, and just as he almost had him another wave came and wrenched him from his grasp.  _Shit!_  Kicking with his feet again, ignoring the fire in his belly that threatened to take him under, he lurched forward again and got Red's arm. This time he held fast, refusing to let the water take him from him. But he'd drifted further from shore. Turning around, swallowing more water as another wave hit him full on in the face, Ressler held Red's belt with one hand and refused to let go.

With his fingers hooked in the belt he turned for the shore and began to paddle back. Now the waves helped him, pushing him the way he needed to go. And as he got closer to the rocks, he was acutely aware that he had no way easy to get Red out of the water. There was no calm beach. All he had in front of him were rocks and foam flecked waves crashing against them. Looking into Red's face, he slapped his cheeks, but got no response.

_Don't you be dead, you son of a bitch!_

The waves pushed him to shore, and now he let them, reserving what little strength he had left. Gripping Red to him, he felt the rocks under his feet again.

"Reddington!" he shouted again, into the criminal's wet face. No response. Blood trickled from his forehead.

_Shit!_

He was at the rocks and out of time to decide what he was going to do. Trying to keep his feet on the rocks below his feet, he pushed Red in front of him with one hand and grasped a rock with his free hand. He couldn't hold on. If he didn't figure this out fast, they could both drown. And faced with nothing else he could do, he let go of Red's belt, begging him not to float away too fast. Grabbing at the rocks with both hands, now he could pull himself up. His stomach threatening to tear in two, he screamed in pain as he dragged himself up the rocks, landing on his stomach with his feet still in the water. Black dots filled his vision as the dizziness threatened.

_Don't you dare! Don't you dare pass out!_

Rolling to his back he scrambled around. Reaching into the water, he had a momentary panic that he could no longer reach Red. Pitching even further forward, all but falling back into the water as he did so, he grasped Red's collar and hung on. Another wave hit him, and Ressler could only say a silent thank you as this wave pushed Red back toward him.

Reaching him with both hands now, he pulled him toward him and got his hands under Red's armpits. And slowly, his body trembling in agony, he moved his legs back over the rocks, dragging Red with him. His stomach lurched threatening to let loose, and as he turned his head while still clinging to Red, he lowered his head and vomited again, this time bringing up sea water. Refusing to let go of Red as darkness again threatened to take him under he gasped for air, willing himself to stay conscious. As his head cleared a little, he gathered himself up again, slipping on the rocks.

Slowly, Red came from the water as he dragged him out and up onto the rocks. And still dragging Red he climbed a few feet more before he collapsed, unable to move. Free of the water now, they were just below the small pathway. And still clinging to Red as he clutched him to his chest, terrified the water would take him again, his trembling body gave in and unconsciousness swiftly took him.

###

As Liz drove to the first lighthouse that was north of Rockport, she took her phone out of her pocket.

"I'm calling them. Something else is going on, and I need to know what it is," she told Aram.

He looked up from his laptop, the glow lighting up his dark features. "Agent Ressler wasn't feeling well. Perhaps he got sicker?"

"Maybe. It would be just like him not to mention that," she agreed, dialing Red's number.

It didn't ring. Instead, a tone sounded, and then a recorded message played.  _"This phone is not in service or is out of the subscriber area. Please try again later."_  Cold dread crept into her stomach. She glanced at Aram, ending the call.

"Something has happened to them. I just know it," she told him. As they came around the next curve in the road, they saw the lighthouse in front of them. Tall and white it rose above them, its beacon rotating in the darkness.

"Park over there, next to the building," Aram prompted.

Pulling into the parking lot, they quickly exited the vehicle. There was no way of knowing if this was the right lighthouse.

"Ressler! Reddington!" she called, but no answer came. The soft breeze came off the ocean, and as she smelled the salty air, she turned and looked up at the white tower above them. The light rotated, and each time it swept by them it illuminated the area. Dropping her eyes from it, she scanned the nearby trees.

"Ressler!"

"Liz, they're not here," Aram told her, coming to stand beside her.

She turned, looking around and gazed out over the dark ocean. "I know… I know…I just need to find him. Them."

"This was just the first of many lighthouses. Come on, let's sit in the car again and we'll keep looking on the maps," he urged, now putting his hand hesitantly on her back. She nodded, and let him lead her back to the car."

"Aram. Something is very wrong."

###

The night air was becoming colder as it blew in off the ocean. And as it wafted over the still forms on the rocks, Red moved slightly. He couldn't remember where he was at first. Unable to open his eyes with the pain in his head, he slowly realized he was lying near water. The ocean. The salty filled air filled his nostrils. A familiar smell. A beloved smell. And as his body woke up more, he could feel the hard rocks underneath him. Slowly his senses came back and he opened his eyes. And what he saw filled his vision and the memory came tumbling back. The lighthouse rose above him, stark and white in the moonlight as its shining light swept over him. He'd been on the path, about to call Liz and tell her that her stubborn partner was in trouble and was going to need an ambulance when they found them. But he'd dropped the phone, and as he'd reached for it he had lost his footing and gone into the water. That much he remembered. The rest was a blur.

As he moved more he became aware of something else. Arms around him. And someone close against him. Removing the hands from around his chest, he wriggled further forward and turned and saw Ressler lying behind him. They were both soaked. Ressler had gone in after him!

Marveling at the agent's sheer tenacity, he dropped close to him, "Donald!"

Ressler didn't stir. Reaching down, Red felt his pulse in his neck. It was steady, and patting Ressler's shoulder he let him be for now. Reaching up to his own head, his hand came away with a trickle of blood on it. If a blow to the head was all he had to worry about right now, he wasn't doing too badly. Looking at the waves hitting the rocks, it was obvious he could have drowned. He saw something else, and leaning over to grab it, he gave a satisfied little smile and put his fedora back on his wet head.

Managing to gain his feet, he stood and looked toward the lighthouse. He was very close to it. With another glance at Ressler, he decided to chance it and making his way back up to the pathway he followed it carefully, his progress lit by the steady rotation of the beam. As he got closer, a small concrete walk way replaced the path and he stepped up to it, holding onto the railing. The door to the lighthouse was in front of him, and as he approached he could see a padlock glinting in the light. But they'd come all this way, and he was not going to let that small piece of metal stop him.

And reaching down off the pathway, he found a brick sized rock. He'd seen Dembe do this once, and was about to repeat the effort. Lining up his view, he waited for the beam to come around again, and as it did so he threw the rock, landing perfectly on the padlock. And just as Dembe's padlock had done on a mountain top, so this padlock gave way and opened.

Smiling with satisfaction, Red approached now and pulled the damaged padlock from the door. Pushing on it, it swung open giving him access to the lower room of the lighthouse. As he entered he found a light switch and flicked it on. The sudden light hurt his eyes and as he shielded them, he squinted, seeing the spiral staircase before him going up the center of the tower.

"Every journey begins with a single step," he said and started up the stairs. Gripping the hand rail as he climbed, he stopped every so often to catch his breath. After a few minutes, and after passing several small rooms, that were actually just platforms at various heights inside the tower, he reached the upper level. He was right below the light, and could now see out the observation windows. Peering down to the rocky beach he could just make out Ressler still lying where he'd left him as the beam circled. He lifted his gaze and each time the beam came around, looked further out to where they were.

What he saw made him shake his head in disbelief. "Well. This changes things."

Making sure his observation was correct he went to another window, getting a view to the east. And as the beam rotated, he looked again, and got more of a bearing on where they were. And repeating it he went to all four windows, looking in each direction. Satisfied he had a good lay of the land, he began his descent. Going down was much easier and definitely quicker. As he came back down to the lower room, he exited the lighthouse, walking back along the concrete walk way. Slowly he made his way back to the rocks, just as he saw Ressler starting to stir.

###

As Ressler woke, his first realization was that Red was no longer with him. Fearing he'd somehow slipped back into the ocean, he rose to his elbow and looked toward the waves. But as he did so, he caught sight of the lighthouse and immediately saw the change. The lower door was open and light was spilling out from it.

"Donald!"

Relief flooded over him as he saw the silhouette of the criminal making his way toward him. Still laying on the rocks and resting on his elbow, he watched silently as Red made his way back toward him. Reaching for his belly, trying to help the pain, he found his stomach was hard to his touch, bloating slightly. Shuddering, he lay back down as Red came closer and kneeled beside him.

"Donald, I have to assume you jumped in after me. To which I owe you a debt of gratitude. But right now, my concern is for you. It may be harder for Lizzie to find us than we thought, my friend."

Ressler looked up at him, barely comprehending what he was saying. "What…?

Red leaned closer to Ressler. "Listen to me. I climbed the lighthouse to see where we are," he said, looking at Ressler's unfocused eyes. "Can you hear me?"

Ressler could, and nodded. "Yes. Where are we?"

"We're not on the mainland," he told Ressler, placing his hand on Ressler's shoulder. "They're looking for us on the coast, and we're miles from it. We're on an island."

The rocks were digging into Ressler's back as he looked up at Red. And on hearing his words, he closed his eyes. His belly was on fire, his body unable to move for now, and for the first time he seriously wondered if he was going to live through this day after all.


	5. Stay Strong

Still parked at the lighthouse north of Rockport, Liz reached into the back seat of the car to retrieve her overnight bag and pulled out a jacket. At 3:35am, the air was getting colder around them. Beside her, Aram was still pouring over maps and satellite images. He was zooming back into the larger map after looking around yet another lighthouse, when he suddenly looked up.

"Oh, no." He looked quickly at her, half closing the laptop lid.

"What is it?" she asked him, slipping her warmer jacket on with difficulty as she sat in the driver's seat.

"I'm an idiot," he told her, looking at her, then glancing down and back to his laptop as he reopened the lid fully.

"Aram, you're one of the smartest people I know. You are not an idiot," she smiled and briefly touched his arm.

"Liz, look at this map. What do you see?" swiveling his laptop further around, he had a map of the Maine coast, with red dots all over it marking individual lighthouses.

She looked at it, "I see the coast and the lighthouses we've been looking at..." she ventured, raising her eyebrows and looking up at him in question.

"Aaaannnd…" he drew out the word, motioning with his head to the screen.

"Oh, my god." Seeing it in front of her, laid out with the red dots it became so clear. "We've only been looking on the coastline!"

"Exactly. We need to look at the lighthouses out in the harbor. On the islands." His dark eyes looked at her again. "I'm sorry. I should have seen that earlier. I don't know why I didn't." Wondering briefly if the chloroform had done permanent damage, he shook his head and began to zoom in on the nearest island to them that had a lighthouse.

"There can't be many islands with a large building that could have been a hospital or a prison," she told him, as he changed his search parameters.

Typing 'island' and 'hospital' didn't bring up anything of value. Nor did 'island' and 'prison', so sticking to his original search, he zoomed in on the next island that had a lighthouse. Zooming out around it, there were a few homes and a private landing strip, but nothing that had a high brick wall around it.

"Assuming they're on an island, we're going to need a boat," she told him, thinking ahead as he continued looking. "Not just any boat. We need the Coast Guard," she told him, then started searching on her phone for the nearest base.

It didn't take long. "There is one in Rockland about 20 miles south of Rockport," she told him hurriedly, trying to decide if she call ahead or just start driving. Her confidence in her colleague to find them was 100 percent. Unable to just sit there, she started the engine and backed out of the parking space. Aram was so busy searching he barely noticed they were moving until she reminded him to put his seatbelt on.

Driving south again, they soon came again to the Inn and both looked to see if the black SUV was still there. It was. Still parked where Liz had seen it a few hours ago.

"Well, that's not scary at all," Aram said quietly, then nervously looked at his laptop before soon becoming engrossed in his virtual search again. Not stopping this time, they drove through Rockport and continued south along the coast road. As she drove, the far off beams of the lighthouses caught her attention across the dark bay. They took on new meaning now.

"Liz! I found it!" he exclaimed beside her. Unable to look at what he'd seen, she looked for a shoulder wide enough to pull off onto safely, and saw a scenic stop ahead. Pulling in and stopping the engine, she leaned over as he quickly showed her a small island, complete with a lighthouse on the northern point. A large wooded area, and then a clearing with a large complex toward the center of the island. A dark brick building, almost black, complete with a high brick wall surrounding it. The sign on the map was right in front of her. 'Cedar Island Sanatorium'

"That's it! Aram, you found them!" she grinned at him, "Perhaps we shouldn't mention to them that they locked them up in a mental hospital," she smiled as he returned to the map, already working out the coordinates. "Okay, it looks to be about 15 miles off the coast as the crow flies, or as the boat sails, from the Coast Guard base," he told her. "We're actually closer to it from here." He turned his laptop and held it up, lining it up with the lighthouse beams they could currently see out on the water before them.

"It's that one! See it? To the left, over there…fainter than the others," and showing her which pinpoint of light it was, she brought her hands to her face and just looked at the small beacon far off in the ocean. They had found them. She just hoped her stubborn partner was okay, knowing he had a penchant for minimizing the details where he was concerned.

###

"At the risk of repeating my earlier question, Donald. Can you stand?" Red asked Ressler, but this time Ressler didn't answer. His body had apparently gone AWOL, because he sure as hell couldn't get it to do anything. Attempting again to rise, all he could move was his neck and shoulders about an inch off the rocks before laying back down. He was incredibly uncomfortable with the severe pain. And both cold and hot. Internally, he was burning up. Yet on the outside, with his wet hair and clothes and the ocean breeze blowing across him his extremities were cold.

The worst of it was that lying on the cold rocks was just like lying on the cold steel bed in the box. The only difference was that this time it was his gut slowly killing him, not his leg. Either way, he was screwed. And in an agonizing similarity, Reddington was leaning over him in concern. He closed his eyes to block out the sight and the memory. And through his closed eyes, tears rolled silently downward and trickled into his ears. He couldn't speak to Red. All he could feel was his body fast abandoning him and being powerless to stop it.

Red could see the difference in the drips of seawater coming off Ressler's hair and the tears rolling slowly from his closed eyes. Resisting the urge to pat the agent's shoulder, he looked away, giving Ressler a moment. A sudden thought came to him. He had dropped his phone nearby. That's why he'd ended up in the drink. Rolling back up off his knees, he began to search the rocks. Could he possibly be that lucky that the phone would still be on dry land? And be usable? He'd never been THAT lucky. It usually didn't play a part in Reddington's plans. But anything was possible.

Ressler heard Red scrambling around the rocks but didn't open his eyes. He just hoped like hell Red wouldn't fall in again. Because he really didn't feel like pulling him out again. And lying on the rocky ground, the only thing he felt he could accomplish well was to sleep. To rest. To hurt. To die.

Red continued looking on the rocks at his feet, stopping each time the lighthouse beam headed off, then resuming the search as it came back around. Apparently the luck Gods were shining on him tonight. Wedged in a small indent in the rocks, some four feet from the water's edge he found his phone, eyeing it with a smiling tilt of his head. But would it work, was the question. Standing on the rocks and not letting Ressler in on his find just yet, he turned it on. And got nothing. But as he turned it in his hand as the beam of light illuminated the phone again, he saw why. The back was off slightly. Pulling it off and re-seating the battery and Sim card, he popped the back on and tried again. And this time the phone lit up, casting a pale blue glow on his face. And looking across at Ressler, he typed a text. He wasn't good at typing on these darn things, but he typed it anyway and hit Send.

As the text went on its way, he looked out at the dark ocean, breathing in the wonderful aroma. A smell he had known and embraced all his life. Looking toward Ressler again he waited for the reply to his text. And there it was, almost immediately.

[Appendicitis?! Yes, call me! Let me talk to him!]

Nodding to his phone as if he were nodding to her, he walked back over to Ressler as he dialed the number. Not saying a word as he heard her answer in his ear, he sat down beside Ressler again and placed the phone to Ressler's ear.

"Donald, there is someone who wishes to speak with you."

Ressler wasn't sure what Red was saying until he heard Liz's voice in his ear.

"Ress! We know where you are!"

"Liz..." His voice hitched with pain and tears, and she heard it immediately.

"I know…Aram found you and we're coming. I don't know how long yet, but I'll be there as soon as we can. You hang in there, okay?" her voice was soft and caring in his ear.

"Liz… I can't… I don't…" He couldn't explain to her how bad he felt physically and how good he felt hearing her. Couldn't tell her that he needed her. And it wasn't because Red was right there. It was evident Red already knew.

"Ress, I know…" he hadn't needed to tell her. "Red just told me about your appendix. We're on our way to the Coast Guard and we'll be coming and bringing you what you need. You hang in there for me… Please. You have to hang on, Ress." He could hear the tears in her words now, and see her in his mind. Could almost see her looking down at him instead of Red. "Do you hear me?"

He heard her. And raising his hand, discovering it would actually obey him now, he took the phone from Red's hand and held it himself now. "Liz, I… I need you," he panted, confiding in her in now, his tears still rolling silently from his closed eyes. He'd told her. He'd let her in. "I'm... not doing so good."

"I know, and I'll be there soon and bring you help," she reassured him, and for a moment he couldn't answer. Could only lie in pain on the wet rocks and cry, and know she was listening to his tears.

"Stay strong. Hang in there Ress…" she cried, her voice choking up. "Do you hear me? Stay strong for me."

He opened his eyes and saw the Milky Way stretching across the sky above him. Majestic and clear, it ran from horizon to horizon. And underneath that beautiful star field, he promised her. "I will."

He flipped the phone shut and closed his eyes again, feeling Red gently take the phone from his hand. He lay there a few more moments, feeling the ocean breeze against his wet cheeks. He held onto her last words, seeing her in his mind and slowly his tears eased.

He turned his head slightly and looked up at Red, Liz's words loud in his head.  _'Stay strong for me.'_

"Help me up."

Beside him, Red got his arms under Ressler's shoulders and pushed him up to a sitting position, hearing Ressler's sharp intake of breath as he did so. Leaning against Red, he turned his head to him. "I need you to help me to that lighthouse," he panted, "because I am not going to lay here on these rocks and let my stomach win this one."

And behind him, as Ressler turned his gaze back to the sky, drawing his feet up in preparation to stand, Red smiled in silent satisfaction. He had known what medicine Ressler had needed to get him moving again.

###

Liz hung up the phone and drew her eyes away from Ressler's distant lighthouse for a moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Beside her, Aram had put his laptop away, his search complete and looked quietly at her, completely at a loss what to do. He'd heard the conversation. She'd made him tear up himself. Whatever he felt for Samar, and he wasn't really sure what that was, it paled in comparison to the bond between his two colleagues. He'd seen it developing slowly, unsure if they could even see it. Were they too close to see it like an outsider could? But sitting beside Liz, feeling like he was eavesdropping on a very intimate conversation he had realized how acutely aware of it they were.

"Why don't you sit here? And I'll drive," he told her and without waiting for a reply he was already out of the car and walking quickly around to the driver's side. Holding the door open for her, she climbed out, patted his chest and then walked around to the passenger side. As she strapped herself in, he made his way back onto the coast road and continued south to Rockland. He glanced at her a few times, but when it became clear she was lost in thought, he let her be.

As the lights of Rockland came into view, she consulted her phone, then punched the address of the Coast Guard into the GPS. It wasn't necessary though, being well signposted, and before long they came alongside the warehouses and landing area of the Coast Guard's base. A large boat sporting the name 'Thunder Bay' was anchored to the jetty and two orange and white helicopters sat ready on the tarmac, lit by floodlights from the hangar.

Stepping into the combination office, meeting room and break room they found three men dressed in blue jumpsuits playing cards at a small table. Charts and maps lined the walls, pinned up amongst photos of helicopter rescues, swimmers in the water, capsized boats, and orange jumpsuit clad men arm in arm with their thumbs up to the camera.

"Help you folks?" asked the older of the trio, rising from the card game, looking out from under his black USCG cap in welcome.

Liz held out her ID to the man and stepped forward, noting his name tag said 'Marshall'. "I hope so. Federal agents Keen and Mojtabai. We have a Federal agent experiencing a medical emergency on an island about 15 miles off the coast," she told him as the youngest of the trio came over.

"What sort of medical emergency?" he asked her, simultaneously waiting for her reply and motioning to the third guy to get his gear.

"Appendicitis," she told Phillips, noticing his name tag, and Marshall nodded and picked up the radio.

"Which island?" Evans, the last of the trio asked.

Aram had the coordinates ready and handed them across. "It has the Cedar Island Sanatorium on it, and they are at the lighthouse," he explained, as Marshall hit the button on the radio.

"Deeks, get the RB-M out of the shed. We're heading out to Cedar. Wake up Shanks. Appendicitis." Flipping the switch, he replaced the mic and turned back to Liz and Aram.

"If you folks will head this way, we'll get you safely stowed on board." Turning, he motioned to Evans who came over and handed them two life jackets. Aram turned to Liz, speaking in a low voice, "Well, that was easy."

She nodded to Aram. "Something needs to be in this long night."

Following Marshall, they exited through the back door of the office and stepped out onto the jetty. As the response boat came around it left a large wake, causing the Thunder Bay beside them to rock on the waves. Watching Marshall jump on board and join two men - Deeks and Shanks, she assumed - Aram turned back to her again. "Um, I guess now isn't a good time to mention that I don't like boats?"

She smiled at him, hearing the similarity to her partner complaining every time they went near a boat. And sobering, she could hear his voice in her head again.  _'Liz, I need you.'_

"I'm coming, Ress," she whispered, unheard among the men around her.

"Here we go folks, let's get you on board, shall we?" said Evans, and proceeded to help them climb onto the small boat.

###

Ressler was really trying not to lean on Reddington so heavily but was finding that difficult. His little swim in the ocean had all but sapped what strength he'd had left. Adjusting his hold yet again, he attempted to walk more under his own steam, but was unsuccessful. Red simply glanced at him as he supported his weight.

"Donald, leaning on someone isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of trust."

Glancing at Red silently, he took in the words, then ceased fidgeting and let the criminal help him to the lower level of the lighthouse. There were times he marveled at Red's simple yet profound outlook on life. And not for the first time, he found himself thankful he had not succeeded in his mission in Brussels.

It was slow going and now they were going up an incline. Grunting with pain, Ressler grimaced as each step on the rocky ground sent shards of pain through his abdomen. But he was damn well not going to complain, and kept on going as he glanced up at the light streaming out of the open lighthouse door. Approaching the concrete walkway as Red started to help him off the rocks and onto steadier ground, he felt Red stiffen under him. Lifting his head, he couldn't see what had caught Red's attention.

"We may have a problem, my friend."

"Really? Just one?" Ressler asked him, as he stepped tentatively on the concrete walkway, glad to have solid ground under his feet – and a railing to hang onto.

"Over there to our left, under the trees," said Red, motioning with his head as he stood beside Ressler.

As the beam came around again, Ressler focused his eyes to where Red had indicated, and saw what had got his attention. Three men, dressed in dark clothing, standing under the trees.

"Think they've seen us?" Ressler asked Red, unable to take his eyes off them now as each sweep of the light illuminated them. They were still some distance off and motionless. But they certainly weren't out for a night stroll, pausing to enjoy the view.

"I can guarantee it. We're standing in the only light around here. What I am unsure of is why they haven't made a move yet."

Ressler nodded, leaning further onto the railing. "We need to get inside," he panted.

"Agreed."

Holding the railing, Ressler began to drag himself toward the doorway. It was still about 50 feet away from him. But he'd make it. He'd promised Liz. And he was leaning on the railing, head hanging down wondering if he was about to throw up again, when he about fell flat on his butt from surprise.

"Oh, God!"

His cry reached Red and he turned, and then saw exactly what Ressler had seen. From seemingly nowhere a man had appeared, standing some 20 feet below the walkway, motioning frantically as if for them to follow him.

"Conrad!" Red said beside him, recognizing the man, and all Ressler could do was look at the man and wonder what he was seeing. The man was… odd.

"Donald. Change of plans. We're going that way." Red informed him, now turning him around on the railing and heading toward the end of the walkway.

Ressler was almost too exhausted to argue. But remembering their three guests in the trees, he turned, only to find they were no longer in their former positions.

"Shit. They've moved," he told Red, and began to move a little faster himself as the pain in his gut threatened to drop him to his knees. They could no longer see the three men. But before them, Conrad was making his way up the rocks toward them. Pulling himself up level with them, he stood before them for a moment as all three sized each other up.

Ressler dropped, hunching over as he clutched the railing. Conrad jumped to his side and just as Red was doing on the other side, he hoisted Ressler's arm over his shoulder. And between them they got him moving faster. He wasn't walking. Not even jogging. He was simply being dragged as his feet tried to stay upright.

Behind them, the three men were coming toward them. Red stole a glance back at them, seeing them in the next beam of light. Ressler couldn't look up and almost stumbling as they dragged him, they hauled him between them, running from the three armed men who were gaining on them.

He might not be able to walk or run, but there was nothing wrong with his ears. "Listen!" Ressler hissed, to the two men who had now heard it also.

"Medium sized boat. 35 knots. Heading this way," Red told him, breathing heavily with the effort of dragging the agent. Ressler managed to lift his head and stare at him. He'd ascertained all that just from that sound?

"Liz…" he told Red, the sound came closer and they dragged him between him. She had come, just as she'd promised. In the distance they could hear the Coast Guard vessel's change of pitch as it turned, approaching the island.

"Almost there!" Conrad grunted to them, approaching the cliff face from below. It rose about 15 feet in the air above them, grey granite rocks, and a few scrubby shrubs clinging relentlessly despite the proximity to the salt water.

"Where?!" asked Red. He wasn't one for stumbling blindly into a situation, but right now, he was at a loss. But common sense told him Conrad Lucas had not appeared from thin air. He had come from somewhere.

A gunshot fired behind them, as granite rocks shattered at the impact of the bullet in front of them.

"Liz," panted Ressler. He raised his head and could hear the Coast Guard now. They were close. They needed to get here.  _Come on Liz._

###

On the Coast Guard vessel, Liz hunkered down in the survivor cabin as Aram sat across from her. A small area that could seat about six, it was underneath the main wheelhouse where the four seamen were situated. As the boat had first left the harbor, it had sat straight and upright in the water and she'd been on deck. But as they gained speed, turning into the wind on a course for the island, the bow of the boat rose. Its upward movement making the stern feel rather precarious, Aram had made a hasty retreat to the cabin. After a couple of minutes of looking at the dark ocean, wanting to see the island approach, she'd relented and gone and joined him to stay drier.

"How long will it take?" she called up to Evans, who had seemingly appointed himself passenger liaison.

"On this baby? Oh, she'll get us there in about fifteen," he called back down to them, his voice raised above the engines. "She's a little beauty, isn't she?" he asked proudly, and Liz had to agree.

Aram wasn't so enthusiastic. He just wanted to get on solid ground and not think about having to get back on this boat for the return trip.

Ten minutes out of Rockland, they were bypassing an island off to their right, and Liz couldn't resist coming out on deck as they passed it. Looking up with her renewed appreciation of lighthouses, she watched this one from the deck as the waves sprayed her, and suddenly didn't care how wet she got. She was going to stay on deck and watch Ressler's lighthouse grow in her view, until she set eyes on him.

Passing the squat, square lighthouse to their right and leaving it behind them, now she turned her attention to the bow as Evans came and sat beside her. He pointed to the lighthouse ahead of them now. "There's Cedar," he told her, and she gazed at it. Tall and white, it was beautiful. After all their searching for hours on this long night, there was the very lighthouse they'd sought.

"Aram!" she called to him. He had to see this.

"Yes?" He popped his head out of the safety of the cabin and she waved him over. "Oh, okay…"

"Look!" she grinned and pointed and as he gripped the rail and turned, he saw what she was pointing to. And suddenly he didn't care how wet he got either. "Oh my. Agent Ressler's and Mr Reddington's lighthouse!" he called back to her, his grin apparent now.

They were closing in, and Evans pointed again. "We can't come in on the far side of the lighthouse where you said your partner was, but we can beach on this near side. See that little inlet?" he shouted to her, and she saw it. A small patch of sand underneath a small cliff face rising up out of the sea.

As they approached, the beam of the lighthouse illuminated them on each rotation. She was now in the same beams of light hitting Ressler and Reddington, and tears sprang suddenly to her eyes. Aram looked back at her.

"I see them!"

Rising to her feet, she'd seen them too. But something wasn't right. As Marshall cut the engines for them to coast into the beach, Evans stood up and readied the anchor. "We'll go ashore in the dinghy, as the boat can't get right on the beach," he told her, but she wasn't listening now.

Red and someone else were dragging Ressler between him. Her heart leapt as she stood at the rail, craning to see what was happening. They were moving fast. As if something, or someone was after them.

"Liz!" Aram called to her as they heard a gunshot, even above the sound of the engines.

"No!" They were being fired on, running with someone else to safety.

"We need to get to them now!" she shouted at Evans, who was also watching. Looking down at her, he nodded. "We will! Hang on! We're going in!"

Below them, the hull of the boat slowed and then stopped about 20 feet from shore. Evans rushed to toss the anchor, then began to lower the dinghy.

Another shot rang out and Red went down, dropping Ressler with him. "No! Ress!" Turning to Evans, she could see the dinghy being lowered. It was too slow.

"Damn it!" And before anyone could stop her she jumped. Hitting the cold water, she sank down a little, but was then buoyed straight back up with her life jacket. A rope whizzed by her head, with an orange lifesaving ring attached that splashed down near her. She ignored it. She didn't need it.

Swimming now with strong strokes she approached the shore within moments. Her feet soon hit sand and running from the water, she ran up the beach to where Red was now back on his feet, and he and the other man had Ressler up between them.

"Ress!" she yelled and Red looked up toward her, motioning her back to the safety of the boat.

From over the rocks, she could see who was firing at them. Three men in black. The same men who had ambushed them. As Aram yelled at her from behind she ran straight up the beach. Toward Ressler.

###

Another shot rang out, going wide as Red dragged Ressler up toward the cliff face. He couldn't make out where they were going, until a bush was suddenly pulled out of the way by Conrad and an opening appeared. A tunnel in the rocks, approximately 8 feet square.

Ressler was being dragged inside now, no longer able to stand. His head hung limp as spots swam before his eyes. He could see very little. And could hear even less. As he faded, approaching that blackness of unconsciousness the one thing he did hear was Liz yelling his name. It was the last thing he heard before the blackness mercifully consumed him, lessening the burning pain in his gut. She was here.

Red felt Ressler go completely limp right as they got to the tunnel entrance. As they dragged him inside, Conrad side stepped a stack of boxes. They barely had room to squeeze by them. More shots were firing around them. He had ascertained he, for once, was not their target. They were firing at Conrad, having waited for him to be drawn out. It was a moot point though, as the bullets whizzed by.

About 20 feet down the tunnel, he turned back and saw Liz at the entrance, almost to it. "Come on Lizzie!" he now called, still dragging the unconscious Ressler to safety. Another bullet came, going wide and missing its mark again and landing on one of the stacked boxes.

The boxes were filled with bottles of Colloidal Silver. Highly flammable colloidal silver. As the bullet embedded itself into the box the heat from the gunpowder radiated out into the silver compound and a chain reaction began. A spark ignited as Liz ran by the boxes. And when she was three feet from them a small flame reached up, and by the time she had reached six feet from the boxes, they caught fire, flames snaking up to the box above it, and starting another chain reaction within it.

When she was 10 feet inside the tunnel, with Red stopped some 20 feet in front of her sitting on the ground with Ressler, the boxes behind her ignited and exploded, throwing her off her feet and causing Red to duck and drop over Ressler in protection. Beside him, Conrad Lucas was thrown to the ground as the shock wave reverberated down the tunnel.

The next box exploded and then another, and as the explosion obliterated the entrance to the tunnel, the support beams failed. Shattered they crashed to the ground, bringing rocks, wood beams and dirt thundering down into the tunnel. Red ducked, breathing in the billowing cloud of dust, but their ceiling above them held fast. As the dust billowed down the tunnel, he could no longer see anything. From beside him, a flashlight shone as Conrad stood, shining it down the tunnel. Some 10 feet in front of them the tunnel had completely collapsed.

Red rose to his feet in horror. It had collapsed on Liz.

"Lizzie!" Walking toward the pile of debris, Conrad ran to hold him back.

"The whole thing could cave in! We have to get further back!"

Red turned on him and in the flashlight, his features were unyielding. "She is in there!" he pointed back to the pile as dust still settled around them.

And in answer, a scream came to him from the debris pile. He ran to the pile and yelled back to her "Lizzie!"

And pinned in the dark with a beam on top of her, surrounded by boulders and dirt and dust, Liz could do nothing but scream in terror.


	6. Trapped

The explosion shattered the still night air, startling flocks of birds from the nearby treetops into sudden flight. As the shockwave rumbled across the sand, debris rained down, littering the beach with broken wooden beams, rocks, dirt, and melted plastic. On the deck of the Coast Guard boat, Aram didn't feel the ground tremble, but felt the pressure in his ears as the shockwave hit them.

Ducking instinctively, he looked back in horror. "No! Oh, no…Liz!" he whispered, slowly rising to his feet and staring over the boat railing. Heart hammering in his chest, all he could do was stand open mouthed and grip the railing as dust and sand billowed over them, turning the air thick and powdery.

"Damn!" Evans exclaimed as the air took on a pale grey hue, illuminated in the lighthouse beam. He poked his head below deck, "Shanks! Get your kit!" then looked back up into the wheelhouse, "Deeks, get the rescue gear ready!"

The medic already had his kit and immediately jumped down into the small dinghy moored to the response boat. Evans followed him, then looked back up at Aram, holding up his hand to assist the FBI Agent.

"Oh, god," Aram murmured before climbing into the dinghy. His stomach was doing flip flops. And it had nothing to do with being on the boat, though that wasn't helping. If anything had happened to Liz or Ressler, or to Mr Reddington how would he ever be able to inform Director Cooper? But as the sole agent on scene now – he'd effectively just been 'promoted' to lead agent – he'd have to carry that weight. His stomach churned, knowing he was going to have to inform his superior very soon of what had transpired and keep him in the loop. But first, he needed to find out more himself.

From the wheelhouse, Aram heard Marshall on the radio, "Base, this is 45637 out on Cedar. Have had an explosion on the beach. Four possible victims under the rubble. Please advise. Over."

But Aram didn't hear what base advised as Evans gunned the motor on the dinghy. Riding the short distance to shore they passed the lifesaving ring still floating in the water. Looking at the orange ring as they zipped by, Aram had the sinking feeling that it was going to take more than a tossed flotation ring to rescue Liz now.

###

Ressler could hear screaming. Laying in that familiar darkness as his brain rested, he listened again. Another scream.  _And shouting?_  It sounded like Reddington.  _But Red doesn't shout._

The scream came again. And this time he knew who it belonged to.

_Oh, my God! It's Liz!_

Fighting the blackness now, urging himself to wake he struggled to rise to the surface.  _Liz! I'm coming!_ Forcing himself upward, knowing he was regaining consciousness by the pain flaring across his midsection again, he clawed his way back up.

As his eyes sprang open to a dust filled, oppressive semi-darkness, he had no clue where he was. Hot and sweaty, in brutal pain and lying on his left side against a wall behind him, he tried to get his bearings. The ground below him was hard and covered in a layer of sand and dirt. Tilting his head forward, activity caught his attention as the distinct sound of falling rocks filled the dense air.

And the sound came again, piercing the air. He hadn't dreamed it. He hadn't imagined it.

Liz was screaming.

And Red was shouting in response. "Lizzie! We're coming to get you!"

Worse than any nightmare, Liz's screams filled the air, striking Ressler to his very core. The terror in her screams was palpable. And as Reddington and Conrad frantically moved rocks from what looked like a large cave in, he finally understood why she was screaming.

She was buried alive.

"No! Liz!" he panted, moving toward that terrible, heart wrenching sound coming from her.

Barely able to stand, he rolled to his hands and knees and dragged himself up the wall. Almost doubled over, he made his way toward the two men. Conrad stepped aside for him as he approached, busy lifting and rolling rocks off the pile as Red yelled to her again.

"We're coming! Please Lizzie! Save your air!"

Red turned as he caught sight of Ressler out of the corner of his eye.

"What happened?!" Ressler asked him, his eyes darting all over the pile of rocks and debris before him.

Pausing only briefly as he answered Ressler, he filled him in on the events that led to the explosion and cave in before resuming his rock pulling from the pile. Covered in dust with sleeves rolled up, his once white shirt and black waistcoat were now a dull shade of grey. "How bad is she?!" Ressler demanded

"All we know is she's alive, obviously," he told Ressler. "And when we're done here, Conrad," he said, addressing the second man who Ressler had barely paid attention to, "then you can explain to me just what the HELL is going on here."

Ressler looked across to Conrad. About Reddington's age, he was dragging rock after rock from the pile, but spared a nod to Ressler. Ressler saw now what had appeared so odd. Under his grey hair, his skin was a dark bluish grey. Even under the dust it was plainly visible.

Standing hunched over between the two men, Ressler was startled as Liz shrieked again, much closer to him.  _Liz!_  Reaching for a rock, he attempted to lift it off the pile, straining with the effort and subsequent pain that brought him.

"You shouldn't be doing that, Donald," Red told him before resuming his own rock excavation effort.

Ignoring Red, Ressler reached higher, crying out as he did so and got hold of a round rock about the size of a basketball. His attempt was valiant. The desire was there, but the flesh was weak and he stumbled to his knees.

"Shit," he panted, raising his arms more and trying a smaller rock lower on the pile. Dusty hands around it, he again tried to lift another rock but all he achieved was having it roll down the slope and hit his thigh.

"Damn it!" he berated himself, as Liz let loose with more sobbing screams.

"Liz! Liz, don't!" he called to her.  _Please don't!_

"Lizzie! We're coming!" Red shouted out to her again, but still she screamed.

Sinking to his knees, almost wanting to cover his ears and stop that sound, Ressler again tried to move a rock and failed. Leaning over as his stomach roiled, he thumped the ground with his fist as Liz screamed in the middle of that pile of rocks. She was in full blown panic mode. And he was utterly useless.

Red leaned down to him after tossing a large rock to the ground that almost landed on Ressler. "You cannot be here! Move back!"

Ressler wasn't listening. She was his partner! She was trapped and screaming! Rising up on his knees he again attempted to move a rock, only succeeding in moving it enough that it rolled and hit him right in his swollen belly. Writhing in pain, he slipped to the ground again as tears of pain streaked down the dust on his cheeks.

"Donald! Get out of the way! You cannot help here!" Red shouted to the agent, with no time for pleasantries now as Liz's screams rose to a new level.

"Don't! Don't tell me… what I can't do!" he yelled at Red, clutching his stomach. Her shrieking was infiltrating his brain. Invading his mind. Piercing his heart.

"You're in the way! You will get hurt!" Red yelled at him shortly, as he rolled another large rock behind him barely missing Ressler's knee in the process, effectively proving his point.

Beside them, Conrad continued moving rocks, his hands dusty with the effort and turned to Ressler. "We got this."

Ressler paid him no attention. Gritting his teeth, he again attempted to rise and reach for another rock. Now Red was right in his face. "You want to help? This isn't the way. Conrad and I can get the rocks." Red pointed to the screams coming through the wall of debris. "You hear that?!" he yelled in Ressler's face.

Of course he did.

Reaching down, Red hooked his arm under Ressler's armpit, pulling him to his feet. Hunched over as the pain radiated through his mid-section he glared at Red, a retort ready on his lips.

Close to his ear now, Red spoke to him firmly. "There IS something you can do. But not here under our feet!" Red flung at him, "Talk to her. Keep her calm!" he finished, pressing his phone into Ressler's hand.

Ressler met Red's eyes, glaring at him, until he saw the fear and pain in them that matched his own. And understanding, he dropped his head, nodded and made his way from Red to go sit against the wall a few feet behind the two men. Leaning heavily against the wall, he slid down to the ground as the dust swirled around him. And as Liz's screams filled the dusty air in the enclosed space, he pressed her number on the speed dial.

###

Pulling up on the beach, Evans jumped out of the dinghy, followed by Shanks. As Shanks shouldered his medical kit, Aram jumped onto the sand clutching his satchel with his laptop. Like his own personal American Express, he never left home without it. Not even to the scene of explosion that could very well have left him the sole survivor of their group. As Evans returned the dinghy to the water to retrieve Deeks and the rescue gear, Aram viewed the debris field and destroyed tunnel entrance.

Below the cliff face a man lay bleeding. One of the three who had pursued Red, Ressler and the third gentleman - Conrad Lucas, he assumed. His cohorts stood over him, pointing, gesturing and apparently arguing. On seeing the Coast Guard dinghy now onshore one pulled a gun, as the other held his arms up, preventing him from pulling the trigger. Aram watch, horrified. Surely they weren't going to shoot-

The gunshot rang out.

He'd shot his associate, much to the anger of his companion who quickly checked the downed man before turning on the gunman. Not sticking around to argue, the gunman ran for the rocks in the direction of the lighthouse. Growling in fury, the second man glanced at the dead man at his feet then turned and fled the scene, running back toward the lighthouse and disappearing from view.

Shanks was running for the man on the ground. But Aram already knew the guy was dead. He didn't need to be an FBI agent to know that. There was nothing the medic could do. Feeling the guy's pulse, Shanks stood and shook his head then turned toward the cave in as Aram approached it. In a strange mix of feelings he wanted to both run to his fallen colleagues under the debris, yet run as far from the site as he could, fearing another explosion that could kill them all.

Aram slowed and stood at the tunnel entrance. His heart sank. It would take forever to get through that mess. Rocks and boulders lay about then entrance, and sidestepping them, he stood close to the cliff now. His hand found the surface of a large rock and rested there as he dropped his head and sent up a silent request that his work colleagues and friends be safe. And in answer, he heard something.

A scream. Faint, but he was positive it was a scream. His head shot up as it came again. "Oh my god, Liz!" It was unmistakably her. Turning to the medic, he didn't even have to ask if he'd heard it.

"We got a survivor!" Picking up his two way, Shanks radioed Marshall on board the boat and passed on the news, just as Evans pulled ashore with Deeks, bringing ropes, shovels, lights and safety helmets.

Aram turned back to the distant sound of screaming. Faint though it was, it buoyed his heart somewhat. Liz was alive. He had his status report, and turning from the sound, unable to bear listening to her screams, he walked away as he dialed Cooper's number.

###

"Come on… come on…" Ressler sat on the ground, willing Liz to pick up the phone. What if she didn't have it on her anymore? Or couldn't reach it. Or it was smashed to pieces. Any number of things could stop her hearing his voice right now. The phone rang on and on in his ear as he stared at the wall in front of him. "Come on…" It stopped ringing in his ear.

"Liz, it's me. It's Ressler."

He heard her, loud and clear in his ear as she let out another gut wrenching scream, sobbing in his ear.  _Oh, God…_

"I…I know Liz. Listen to me. Just listen to me. I know you're terrified but concentrate on me." He rested his head back on the wall as he spoke, still hearing her sobbing in his ear. She wasn't listening.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, trying a practical approach.

She screamed out loud again, causing him to hold the phone from his ear for a second or two.

"I'm here Liz. I'm right here," he said, closing his eyes against the sound of her cries. Hearing it both through the phone and in the tunnel was chilling. And sitting on the ground, listening to her frantic cries, he wanted to walk to that tunnel, throw every rock aside, reach down and just hold her tight. He couldn't do that though. There was no reaching her through that wall of debris at this time. And he couldn't walk. And he couldn't lift her. He couldn't reach her. Not physically. But there was another way he could.

His voice softened. No longer fighting to be heard over her screams, he dropped his voice level, willing her to do the same. "I'm here. Listen to my voice Liz. You hear me?"

If he asked her something, she would have to stop what she was doing and think of something else. In theory at least. She sobbed and didn't answer. "Liz, can you hear me," he asked again.

"Yyyessssss!" her voice shook as she screamed.

He had her. "There we go. I'm right here. I'm close. I'm in the tunnel and Red and Conrad are digging you out. I'm here, just feet away from you."

"Rrreeesss!" she called to him, and he clutched the phone harder, needing to feel close to her. As close as he could get. "I know, it's frightening. I know," he told her, knowing he couldn't possibly know how she felt, "but you're not alone."

"Ookkaaayy!" she was still screaming, but she was replying now.

"I'm going to stay here," he told her, then quickly held the phone from his ear and checked the battery. It was down to 29%. But he'd stay with her as long as it took – or until the battery ran out.

"Reess! Heellp mmee!"

"I'm here Liz, and we are helping you. We will get to you," he told her, glancing at Red and Conrad. They sure as hell had better get to her.

His stomach was threatening to let loose again. He ignored it. "You helped me earlier tonight. My turn to return the favor, right?" he asked her softly.

"Reesss" she called to him, raising her voice but no longer shrieking.

His stomach wasn't going to give up, and as he felt the bile come up, he quickly held the phone to one side and dry retched on the other. But his primary thought was on her, and not losing ground with her if he stopped. "I'm... I'm…here Liz," he panted trying to get his breathing and pain level under control again.

The change in her was noticeable. "Aarre yoou okkayy?" she asked him, shuddering uncontrollably in the dark, her words shaking as she spoke.

From in front of him, Red briefly looked back. No longer hearing Liz screaming, he could hear her raised voice. He could hear her talking to Donald and he allowed himself a small smile before resuming the back breaking task.

Unintentionally, Ressler had got her mind off her situation, if only briefly. "Oh, you know me, Liz... I'm always fine," and suddenly he was smiling, hearing her berating him every time he told her "I'm fine," even when he clearly wasn't.

"Sstuborrnn," she answered him and he would like to imagine she smiled, if only for a second.

"That's me, Liz. I've got that stubborn male bullshit down to a fine art, right?" he told her, as his stomach settled a bit. Or perhaps he was doing the same thing for himself that he was doing for her. Getting his mind off his current situation.

"Yoou do," she answered and he could hear her voice calming.

"You wouldn't have me any other way though, right?" he asked, continuing to drag out responses from her.

"Noo… mmaybe a little…" she replied, and he grinned then, closing his eyes and picturing her sitting near him, perched on his desk in their usual spots.

"Ress…it hhurts."

He sucked in a breath, not wanting her to drop back down too far into her immediate surroundings, but needing to get an idea of injuries she may be suffering. "What hurts, Liz? Tell me…" he asked, dreading pushing her back into the dark, screaming hole.

"My back. Legs. Ress, it hurts."

She was staying with him. And he suddenly remembered something. He'd totally forgotten the events that had brought her here until it came flooding back. He found that a little disconcerting, to say the least. "You came with the Coast Guard, right?"

"Yes, Aram and I."

His spirits lifted a little at that. "Which means they are out there now, also working on getting us out of here," he told her.

"Us? Are you trapped too?" her voice rose a little and he sought to keep her on an even keel.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. Red and Conrad are working on the debris pile though, and-" he stopped, looking up at their progress. And was impressed. A sizable opening was in the debris field now. "And they're doing an amazing job of getting to you."

"Amazing…" she said and he knew where her mind had gone.

"Yeah, I'm amazing, right?" he said, remembering the lie. The deceit. And the emotional pain. He couldn't go there right now.

"Ress…don't let me die."

He sucked in a sharp breath, his heart wrenching a little more. "I won't let that happen, sweetie."

It was out before he realized, as his heart leapt in his chest. And once said it couldn't be undone.

"Need you…" she told him quietly.

"And you have me," he told her, feeling tears pricking his eyes now. If he lived through this, of course. Tears filled his eyes.  _Don't lose it. Keep her calm_.

"I know…" she said in his ear.

"Oooww!"

He sat up further. "What? Liz?!" Looking to Red, who had heard her cry out too.

"The support beam moved as we took more rocks out from under it!" Red called back. And behind Red, he could see an opening through to where Liz was and the large 6 inch square support beam at an angle in the pile of rocks.

"Reesss!" she was calling to him. And slowly rising to his feet, doubled over, keeping the phone to his ear he staggered to the opening in the tunnel. "I'm here," he panted. "I'm not going to let you die!"

###

As Aram dialed Cooper's number, he suddenly stopped and changed who he was calling. He couldn't tell Cooper that Mr Reddington and Agent Ressler might be dead under a caved in tunnel. Well, he could but not without moral support. Not without a friend.

He dialed another number and as Samar answered, he could almost see her sitting at her desk, perched on the edge of her chair.

"Aram, do you have them safe?" she asked, her silken voice purring in his ear. Last she'd heard they were leaving on the boat to retrieve Red and Ressler from the island.

"Ah… no. Samar, they're-" he stopped, and she immediately dropped her voice.

"What's wrong?"

Standing on the beach, looking at the Coast Guard vehicle bobbing in the water as the lighthouse beam swept over him, he held the phone tight. "There was an explosion. I don't know if they're all alive," he told her. "I, well I know Liz is alive. Samar! I could hear her screaming!"

Listening to his voice cracking, she moved away from her desk and walked toward the elevator. "Then if she is alive, the others may be too. We can't assume the worst at this point, okay?"

He nodded quickly, "Okay. Yes. You're right." Catching his breath, he looked back up the beach to where the Coast Guard were setting up floodlights, aiming it at the debris.

"I need to tell Cooper," he told her.

Wanting to help, she replied, "I can tell him, Aram."

"No, I'm the lead agent on scene. I need to tell him," he told her, straightening now and walking slowly back to the Coast Guard. "I'll call him right now."

Smiling, she could hear the change in his voice. He'd be okay. "I'll let you go so you can call him. I'll even act surprised at the news when he comes down the stairs," she added.

"Thank you," he told her, then hung up and immediately dialed Cooper.

"Cooper," his boss answered.

Without missing a beat he spoke up. "Sir, it's Aram. There has been an incident."

###

Red and Conrad were under the beam, shining the flashlight up to it. They had to be so close to her now. As the beam angled down through the debris, it disappeared among the rocks about 2 feet off the ground. "The beam is on her back!" Ressler told them, holding the phone away from his ear momentarily.

"We need to support it more, or it will keep dropping on her," said Conrad, and Ressler looked to the man now.

"Pleeeasssee hurryy!" Liz cried and she was so close now that Ressler didn't even need the phone. Dropping to his knees, his stomach shuddering in pain as he did so, he spoke to her.

"We're coming, Liz. Hold on, we'll get you," he panted, trying to keep the fear from his voice as he looked at what was above the support beam.

"Is there anything in this tunnel? Where does it go?" asked Red, quickly turning to Conrad.

Conrad nodded, "I have something I can bring to wedge under the beam!" he called out and tossing the flashlight to Red, he charged off down the tunnel.

Watching the man run down the tunnel he was soon lost to sight in the darkness. He apparently knew the way perfectly well.

"Lizzie, we're almost there," Red told her, listening to her crying, though she wasn't out of control. Yet.

"Conrad has gone to get something to hold the beam," Ressler told her, placing his hand on the rocks near her. "Hold on a bit longer, Liz" he called to her.  _Please…_

Conrad was running back, with two sturdy pieces of wood connected in an X shape. "I got it!" he called to them, and as Ressler managed to scoot out the way, Conrad shoved the support under the ceiling beam, holding it in place.

"Liz, we're going to move the rocks now. Hang on, we're almost there," Red told her, also keeping his voice steady now to keep her calm just a bit longer.

As Conrad and Red started rolling rocks out from under the beam, it held, supported on the X frame. "Please…please hurry!" she cried to them as Ressler kneeled as close as he could without getting in their way. Feeling useless, he kept talking to her.

"Almost there, they're pulling more rocks out now, we've almost got you," he told her, unable to believe they still couldn't see her. And just as he was thinking that, they rolled a large rock away and he saw her dust filled hair.

"Liz!" He couldn't reach her yet but Red could, and as he reached in and touched her hair, she cried out.

"I can feel you! Hurry!"

Trapped in a pocket under the beam the two men rolled the rocks out from around her and slowly she came into view. Horrified, Ressler could barely believe she'd been alive in that tiny space. Right below the beam, she lay on the ground. The beam, while trapping her, had held back the weight of the rocks from above her.

"We need to pull her but not move the beam," Red instructed, as Conrad made sure the wedge was well secured, holding it.

"Donald, it may take all three of us to do this." She was free of rocks around her now, and if they could drag her forward, she'd be out from under the beam.

He faced Red as he kneeled on the ground, holding one of Liz's hands that was visible. He'd do it. Even if his damn stomach exploded with the effort, he'd do it. He nodded to Red.

"Here we go Lizzie. We're going to pull you out," he told her as Ressler held one hand and he held the other. Conrad reached in and between the three of them, they attempted to pull her a little toward them.

"Oooowww!" she screamed as they moved her.

"We need to Lizzie, I'm sorry," Red told her, motioning for them to continue pulling her out.

Ressler couldn't do a lot, but he needed to be touching her as they pulled her out. She slid a little more, crying out as the pressure on her back and legs changed, and he silently begged for her to be okay. "Come on, we've got you," he told her as she slowly came out.

"Conrad!" Red shouted to him as the X cross beam moved slightly.

"Get her out now!" yelled Ressler, seeing the beam ease down a little lower. Liz was sobbing, crying out in pain.

The cross beams on the X support were separating under the weight. Conrad immediately moved to the X beam and wedged it with his feet, stopping it from moving as much as he could.

"Donald! You're under the beam!" panted Red, pulling on Liz's arms. "I need you to help me get her out!

Moving to the side and getting out from under it, he leaned down and grabbed under Liz's arm. And with no more time to ease her out, they pulled hard, as Ressler felt his belly erupt in agonizing pain. As she came free her scream of pain filled the air and Ressler pulled with all his might, seeing spots before his eyes.

_Don't stop. Get her out! Now!_

His gut threatening to rupture, he pulled her out of the debris pile with Red, stumbling to his knees as she came free. Red reached down to her and hoisted her into his arms as she screamed in pain. Ressler was going down. Conrad immediately came out from under the beam and pulled Ressler up, seeing him collapsing. He felt himself being pulled to his feet, letting the man support him.

As Red carried Liz further down the tunnel, Conrad came behind with Ressler, and between the two of them they dragged and carried their charges out of the danger zone.

"I've got you! Come on Lizzie," Red told her as they headed further down the tunnel. Slowing, they turned and he leaned down, gently laying her on the ground as she sobbed.

With Conrad dragging him, they halted beside Red and Liz. All but falling down beside her, unable to stand any longer, Ressler collapsed to the ground. Red was bending down to her, quickly checking her but not finding much more than large bruises and welts, cuts and abrasions. Remarkably, not one broken bone that he could find. She was crying about her back again, and that was his concern. She wasn't moving, but she had been able to hold the phone, he remembered. Red had Conrad's flashlight and was shining it in her eyes, checking her pupils. Blinking her eyes shut, he had time to notice they both responded.

"Is she okay?" Ressler asked him, panting in pain, and Red nodded.

A loud creaking sound reached them. Then the sound of splintering wood shards cracking as the X support collapsed. And as the X support gave way completely, the beam that had been above Liz came thundering down, dropping tons of rocks into the space they had so painstakingly cleared.

"Damn," said Red, knowing they were safely back from it. They'd had minutes to spare.

"Ress!" Liz sobbed anew at the sound and rush of air and dust over them, reaching her arm to him as he lay collapsed beside her.

"I'm here… right here," he panted, grabbing for her hand. As Ressler held onto her hand, she looked up to the man with them.

"You…you're blue," she sobbed, as Ressler looked to him silently.

"Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Conrad Lucas," he told her. "And yes, he has blue skin. The man does have a proclivity for silver and this is the result," he explained, smiling at her to keep her calm.

Ressler turned his face to look at Liz beside him. Sweat ran down his face, mixing with the dust.

"You were right…" she said, her breath hitching as she still cried, looking at her partner.

"Yeah…I told you we'd get you out," he said, looking into her bloodshot eyes.

"No…I meant, you're not doing so good."

Red chuckled at that. "Lizzie we just pulled you out from under tons of rocks, and Donald's appendix is close to bursting. Neither of you look good," he told her sympathetically.

"And we're trapped here in a tunnel," sighed Ressler, always the realist, lying beside her and feeling like absolute crap.

"Oh, it's not just a tunnel," Conrad spoke up. "It's where I live. There is a cave further down the tunnel. I've lived down here for a very long time."

Ressler was too tired to reply, apart from a couple of words, "To the bat cave…" Hot, feverish and in unbearable pain, with Liz safe beside him he had to rest. Unable to stay awake any longer, he let himself drift off.

Lying on the sandy floor Liz felt him beside her and in pain, bruised and scratched to pieces, she held onto his hand, feeling safe beside him. Closing her eyes, she fell into an exhausted sleep close to her partner.

Conrad watched them sleep, shining his flashlight on the two agents. He looked up at Red, as the criminal sat against the tunnel walls tiredly.

"Where did you find him?" he asked Red, smiling.

Red raised his head off the wall, and looked at Ressler. "Oh, Donald and I go way back. Way, way back," he told Conrad. Tilting his head, he smiled. "I told him you'd like him. Didn't tell him why. Figured I'd make him sweat." And looking at the feverish agent asleep at his feet he figured that probably wasn't a good choice of words.

Beside him, Conrad leaned down and looked at the sleeping agents. "We should move them further down, to my cave."

Red leaned back on the wall. "No, they're each in the safest place they can be right now," he said smiling at the two of them together, then looked back at Conrad.

"But you and I need to talk. I need to know what is going on here."


	7. Conrad Lucas

Aram was standing on the beach talking with Samar on the phone, when he noticed the change in the light. Dawn was approaching, and the blackness of night was lifting. The sky to the far side of the lighthouse had turned a deeper shade of blue as the sun approached the horizon.

"I can't hear Liz screaming anymore," he told Samar. "Oh, my gosh. What if she died?!" he asked her, closing his eyes at that possibility. 31 red velvet birthday cupcakes sprang to mind. He'd thought it so witty when he came up with 'Red' cakes for her birthday. What if they never got to make her 32 cupcakes next year? In his ear, he heard Samar.

"Or they have helped her and freed her from wherever she was. Which means she's alive, and so are Red and/or Ressler," she replied, ever the voice of reason.

"I hope you're right," he told her then turned at the sound of a boat engine. Across the water a second Coast Guard vessel was fast approaching.

"Okay, gotta go. The cavalry just arrived. Well, actually, more Coast Guard guys to help dig out the cave in."

"I'll let Cooper know," she told him and then hung up.

As the boat approached, the waves lapped up on the beach, rocking the first USCG boat that was anchored in the small inlet. On board, he could now make out half a dozen guys on deck. He nodded to himself. Excellent. The more manpower they had, the quicker they could get this done. Behind him, a voice called out to him.

"Aram!" Evans was jogging toward him. "Okay, we set up our sonar to read the depth of rock fall. He's running the scan now and it's looking like 12 feet of rock before we see a free opening on the far side," he said, adjusting the cap on his head as he watched the second boat approaching.

Aram looked up toward the debris then back at the water as the second Coast Guard boat anchored in the bay, the men on board wasting no time in gearing up and getting the dinghy lowered. "How long? How long will that take to get through?"

"We could be looking at 24-36 hours. That's a lot of rock-"

The ground trembled beneath their feet as fresh dust came drifting out from the rock fall at the opening.

"Oh, god! No!" Aram sprinted behind Evans toward the entrance to where the sonar was set up. Dust wafted in the morning air, lit in the glow of their floodlights and the rotating lighthouse beacon.

Deeks was getting more readings as the rocks settled within the tunnel. "Ah, man. Our 12 feet is now 15 feet. More of the tunnel just caved in. Good news is there is still free tunnel on the far side of the cave in."

Aram's heart sank. "Oh, no," he whispered, and sat down on the sand before he fell down. His friends were dead in there for sure.

His phone rang and assuming it was Samar again, he answered it without looking, his eyes fixed on the sonar screen.

"Agent Mojtabai, we-" came Red's voice.

Aram cut him off completely. "Oh, my! Oh, my God!" springing to his feet, he looked at Deeks and Evans and pointed to his phone. "It's them!"

"Aram," said Red patiently.

"I'm here. Yes. Mr Reddington. I'm here. It is SO good to hear your voice!"

###

As the dust in the tunnel began to settle after the second cave in, Conrad Lucas looked across to Reddington while Ressler and Liz lay in an exhausted sleep. Neither of them slept peacefully. Liz's mind was overrun with enclosed spaces, oppressive weight, suffocating dust and terror while Ressler's body was one mass of exhaustion, pain, infection and fever.

Hanging up his phone after briefing Aram on their situation, Red leaned back on the wall of the tunnel stretching his tired legs out before him. He could have called Cooper. But if there was one thing Reddington was good at, it was reading what people needed, so he had called Aram.

"Now, Conrad. Tell me what's going here," Red repeated, "I gather the men after us - after YOU - were the Cabal. That much I understand. What I don't understand is how they got here so quickly. We only discovered your name in their database mere hours before."

Conrad was still looking down at the agents, then held up his hand to Red. "Give me five minutes. If we're not going to the cave yet, I can at least get us a little more comfortable here," he said then walked down the tunnel, again leaving Red the flashlight. The bulb was getting dimmer now and the dark of the tunnel was closing in around them.

Red closed his eyes to rest for the few minutes Conrad would be gone. If he slept, it would be a minor miracle with the amount on his mind. They were trapped. Their access buried under tons of rubble. Donald desperately needed a hospital – and that had a familiar ring to it. And Lizzie needed to be checked thoroughly after her ordeal. The ground was hard under his butt and as he shifted uncomfortably his back muscles complained loudly at the work out they'd received. From the darkness to his left a voice emerged.

"Okay, here you go," said Conrad returning, dropping a pillow to sit on, and tossing him a clean jar full of water. He had the same for himself plus a large notebook. Placing two small homemade oil lamps in similar jars on the ground close by them, he lit the wicks. At once the area was lit by a soft, almost comforting glow. Turning off the flashlight, Red organized his pillow and sat again, sipping his water.

Sitting down, Conrad picked up his large notebook and a pencil then leaned over and moved one oil lamp a little more toward the sleeping form of Ressler.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" Red smiled. "Though he's hardly portrait material right now," he added, his smile fading as he looked at the sweaty, dusty agent.

"I can see beyond that," he told Red, and as he began to sketch in his notebook, Conrad began to talk. "The Cabal found me three days ago. Well, they narrowed it down to this island. They searched but didn't find me, but I knew eventually they would."

"Three days?" asked Red, tilting his head. "It was only yesterday we found your information among data in Garrison Clarke's possession."

"That English prick," Conrad interrupted, his eyes on his sketch pad.

Red gave a small grin, tilting his head, "He is rather an asshole, isn't he?" he agreed. "No matter, we, as in myself and my new friends at the FBI here," he waved his hand at the two prone agents on the ground, "had credible intel that Clarke had information that would be beneficial regarding the Cabal."

"And he did. The information you got from him is legit. All I did was add my name to their existing list," Conrad told him, glancing up at Red and then continuing his drawing. "I needed someone I could trust. So I placed my name on the Cabal database, then pointed your friends at the FBI to find that list.

Red narrowed his eyes as he looked at the man, nodding. "Interesting. So it was you who wanted us to find you."

In the light of the oil lamp, Conrad didn't look up, only nodded as he glanced toward Ressler then back down at his notebook. As he drew, his pencil chased away the blank sheet of paper, leaving a portrait beginning to take form in its wake. "That I did. You would see me on there and find out I was still alive then track me down just as the Cabal did."

"After so many years, how did they discover you were still alive?" asked Red.

"I was under the radar for 12 years after I 'died'. Safe and gone from their minds. Until someone I trusted betrayed me," he hesitated, looking away then back up at Red. "Four men arrived on the island the next day."

Red filled in the dots. "But they didn't know exactly where you were," he looked up at the tunnel and down toward the cave. "You went underground, literally."

"Exactly. This is where I've been for years. It's a private island, overseen by the Trust that owns the old mental sanatorium. It's worked well for me. With my condition, sunlight isn't kind to me. This is better," Conrad explained, eyes to his sketch pad as he worked.

"So, once the Cabal saw you had hacked their data and found me, they started tracking you," he added, glancing at Red.

"We thought as much," he said, looking at Ressler again. "We were ambushed and brought here for the sole purpose of them watching us as we drew you out," Red sighed, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall. "We knew it was a trap though. Our escape from their clutches was far too staged. Far too easy."

Conrad smiled apologetically in the lamp light. "That's pretty much it, yes. Except it wasn't the FBI agents I needed here. It was you."

"Why?"

"You're the only one I trust, my old friend," he said looking up at Red. "And I couldn't reach you directly. I couldn't exactly just look you up in the phone book."

"Yes, well, that's kept me alive. But you almost got yourself killed by them anyway." Not to mention the rest of us, he thought but held his tongue.

"It was a chance I had to take. I needed you to reach me before they found me. And I have to say, so far, my objective has been achieved. You are here. And the Cabal are not," he told Red, holding his notebook out at arm's length and looking at it in the lamp light.

Red looked pointedly at the man, opening his arms to encompass their surroundings. "THIS is achieving your objective?"

"If we had waited on the beach for the Coast Guard to land, those men would have caught up to us, killed you and your friends here and taken me."

"You don't know that for sure," said Red, remembering that they had not been harmed when ambushed.

"The one I told you of that betrayed me? They shot him after they got here. I was near the sanatorium up there and saw them shoot him in cold blood. That leader of theirs is not a force to be bargained with. Mark my words, you and your FBI cronies would have been killed if you had stood in their way in their quest to reach me," he said, tilting his head as he studied Ressler and continued to draw.

"If he's the one with the broken nose, then I've met him. I've seen the look in his eyes," said Red.

"He's got a broken nose?" Conrad chuckled at the thought. "Poor bastard. I'd love to break his legs to match."

"Courtesy of your portrait model lying there, yes," confirmed Red.

Conrad eyed Ressler with new appreciation and continued to draw.

"But what the hell did you do to piss them off, Conrad?" asked Red, shaking his head at the man.

"They discovered that the information I have on them resurfaced when I came back from the dead. Information they had long thought gone is still accessible."

"Where is it?"

Conrad pointed down the tunnel to his cave. "Some is in there," then tapped his head with his pencil, "and some is in here."

On the floor near them, Ressler stirred, gasping in pain in his sleep. Red looked quickly to him, then back up at the blue skinned man before him. "I'm flattered you reached out to me to assist you, but the fact of the matter is that now we're trapped in here and completely screwed."

"But the Cabal can't get in, which is a bonus," added Conrad.

Red gave him a frustrated look, then pointed at Ressler. "He needs a hospital. His appendix has to be close to rupture by now. And if he doesn't get that appendix out before then-"

"He could die…" Conrad completed the sentence, looking at the agent on the ground, then down to his drawing.

"And I can't let that happen," Red told him. "So we need to get out of here. Somehow. Someway. I need you to help me find it. In return, you get to come with us, out of the clutches of the Cabal for now.

Across from him, Conrad looked up at the tunnel roof then toward his cave. "There are many tunnels but most have fallen in over the years or are impassable. The beach access has been the one I've used for some time. But there is one way we can try. Though with the recent rains…" he trailed off in thought, and looked up at Red. "But we will find a way."

He put his notebook down, his drawing complete, and looked across at Ressler who was stirring more with the pain.

Let me see," asked Red seeing, leaning forward for the notebook.

Conrad handed it to him, and in the soft lamplight as Red gazed at the drawing, a slow smile broke out on his face. "Conrad, my friend, I didn't think it possible, but you've got even better over the years."

###

"Yes sir. Mr Reddington said they are alive. Though, Agent Ressler and Agent Keen are not doing so good." Aram told Cooper as he walked down the small beach a little way from the Coast Guard. The sun was rising behind him and as the darkness lifted around him a small rocky coastline was revealed before it disappeared from sight, rounding the curve of the island.

Reaching the rocks and the end of the sandy beach, he turned back toward the activity at the cave entrance. The sonar equipment had been moved aside for safety while the additional men had set to work pulling the smaller rocks one by one from the debris pile and loading them onto a small conveyor belt to speed up the process. Evans was on the two way radio, and as he replaced it in his pocket he spied Aram and went jogging up the sand to meet him.

"I need to go again, Sir," Aram told Cooper, "I'll report in when I know more."

"Glad you're there on scene, Aram. You're doing an excellent job," said Cooper, then hung up, leaving Aram standing on the beach as a small surprised smile flashed across his features.

"Aram, we have to head out. We gotta run on a yachtsman in trouble. Once he's secure, we'll be back though. Don't worry, your friends are in good hands with these guys," he assured him, indicating the team of men removing the rubble. "And we will be back long before they break through," he added, seeing Aram's concern.

"Can I bring you anything?" he added

Aram shook his head. "Just good news. That's all I need, thanks."

Slapping Aram encouragingly on the upper arm, Evans turned and met Deeks and Shanks at the dinghy. He watched them pushed away from the beach as the sun rose above the horizon, lighting up the sand and cliff face with golden light. And as they zoomed across the water to the waiting response boat, Evans reached down and expertly retrieved the orange flotation ring.

"Be safe out there guys," Aram whispered, suddenly missing their expertise and companionship.

Above him, its job complete for the night the lighthouse lamp shut down, its beam slowly fading as it stopped rotating. And as Aram looked up at it, he realized that losing that continual rotating beam felt the loneliest of all.

###

Ressler woke up, feeling hot, sweaty and like his stomach had a small volcano erupting inside. As he opened his eyes, he turned his head to the side. Seeing Liz beside him, he raised his head a little to check on her in the soft light. Sweat ran into his eyes from his forehead and he quickly brushed it away before looking up at the two men sitting on either side of the tunnel.

"Donald, how are you doing?" asked Red. Ressler looked at him, grimaced as he tried to rise, sunk back down and replied. "Oh, I'm just… great."

Red chuckled, then rose and helped Ressler to his feet. Standing hunched over beside him, Red motioned to Conrad, who had now stood up and was collecting the pillows, notebook and water jars. "You two haven't been formally introduced. Special Agent Donald Ressler of the FBI. Former Medical Examiner for the city of Boston, and my friend, Conrad Lucas. Otherwise known as The Raven."

Attempting to wipe the dust and grime off his sweaty hand, then giving it up as a lost cause, Ressler shook the man's hand. "We've sorta met," said Conrad. Ressler nodded, and gave the man a small, exhausted smile.

Once he was sure Ressler wouldn't topple over, Red let him go and reached down to Liz, gently waking her. As she jumped, she looked at him in confusion, her eyes dark in the soft light of the tunnel.

"Welcome back Lizzie. We're going to move further down the tunnel. Come on, I've got you…" he told her, then scooped her up in his arms, holding her to him as she cried out in pain at the sudden movement on her back. "I know, I'll get you somewhere more comfortable," he reassured her as he followed Conrad down the tunnel.

As they walked away from the two small oil lamps, they rounded a bend in the tunnel that had gone unnoticed before. A soft glow was before them, and as they continued down it, the tunnel opened up as the ceiling rose to a good 20 feet above them. A limestone cave lay before them, approximately 40 feet square, sparsely furnished, with soft oil lamps illuminating the space. A second tunnel appeared on one side of the cave across from them, exiting further away from the ocean. On another wall, the trickle of water caught their attention as it ran down the smooth rock and pooling in a small depression before disappearing to a lower level under the cave.

But what got all their attention the most was on the far wall. Two computers, powered up with a large power cable snaking up the cave wall and exiting out of a tiny crevasse in the ceiling.

"It really is the bat cave," said Ressler, looking at the computers.

"You said you hacked into the Cabal database, now I see how you did that," said Red as he gently placed Liz on a comfortable couch.

"That lighthouse up there does more than warn passing boats. It supplies me with electricity. The cable comes down from the small electrical access building of the lighthouse, further back onshore. The amount I use is so negligible that no one would notice the additional draw on it. There's an antenna that snakes up through there too giving me access to satellite internet."

"Which no doubt, you also hack into," added Red. "I have a friend who would love to see this," he told Conrad thinking of Aram currently outside on the beach.

Ressler shrugged his jacket off, then hobbled over and sat down beside Liz, leaning back on the couch. "You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded, barely holding back tears. "We're still underground…I don't exactly like it under here."

He looked at her banged up and bruised cheeks and arms, visible even under the dust. "You'll be okay," he told her deliberately not saying 'we'll be okay' because right now, he wasn't sure he would be. But she knew that's exactly what he'd implied and as her tears spilled over he put his left arm around her and pulled her into him.

"You're hot," she told him, feeling the fever radiating off him.

He chuckled, "Well, I try. You know, eat healthy. Workout. Bring birthday dinners," he smiled, teasing her.

She grinned beside him. "I walked right into that one," she said, wiping her eyes.

From across the cave, Conrad watched as Ressler immediately helped Liz feel better despite how bad he obviously felt. "Beautiful inside as well as out," he said softly to Red.

Red smiled, "Oh, don't let him hear you say that. It wouldn't fit his macho image." He turned toward the rear exit of the cave. "So, how about you show me this tunnel system and see if we can find a way out of here."

Retrieving a backpack and two oil lamps that could be carried safely by a leather strap, Conrad headed to the rear tunnel. "There are a couple of cave-ins that we might be able to get around, after the experience with the beach tunnel," he told Red, handing him an oil lamp.

Red looked to Ressler and Liz on the couch. "We should be back soon, hopefully with good news on our situation here," Red told them.

"Yes, dad," Ressler replied.

Conrad looked back at Ressler and Liz, "Make yourselves at home. The water over there is safe to drink, you can wash up in it, and there is some food over there in that cupboard. Explore. I don't mind."

Ressler nodded to the man as Liz thanked him. His arm still around her, Ressler glanced at her. "I don't know about you, but I don't think I can even get off this couch, let alone explore," he told her softly as Red and Conrad headed for the far exit.

Conrad smiled as they made their way down the tunnel, their oil lamp chasing the darkness away in front of them. "So, you and your FBI are like some strange, dysfunctional family. Dad and the kids out camping," he said.

"Oh, you have no idea," chuckled Red, in full agreement.

###

Red was feeling more than a little frustrated. After venturing down two off shoots from the main tunnel, they'd reached the cave-ins on both of them. In an all too familiar sight, rocks, support beams and dirt lay blocking their way. They were old cave-ins though, individual rocks being almost melded together with their neighbors. Unlike the beach tunnel that was a fresh collapse, these rocks were slippery and reluctant to move apart. It would take pick axes and shovels, neither of which were in their possession.

"A dead end then, literally," sighed Red. "Damn."

"Well, there is another way, but I have not used it for so long because it's dangerous. I can show you though.

"Lead the way," Red prompted, and together they walked along the main tunnel. After a few minutes they took a turn to the right, and as they walked down the dark, musty tunnel, Red held the oil lamp up, examining the sagging ceiling.

"Who built these things?" he asked Conrad.

"Moonshiners for the most part. They stored their home made booze down here out of the sun and out of the eyes of the law. I'm amazed the whole lot hasn't come down by now, to be honest. I don't come this way much."

Red walked by his side, down the sandy floored tunnel, noting they were walking down a very slight incline now, as the sound of dripping water came from up ahead.

Conrad pointed to the sound. "That's the reason I said this tunnel was dangerous. See that? It floods. There's always some amount of water sitting in it, but when it rains, it becomes impassable."

Approaching the water, Red walked ahead to look at the large body of water sitting in the tunnel in front of them. For the most part it came about half way up the tunnel wall, rippling slightly as the ground water trickled into it. Shining the small flashlight further down the length of the tunnel, the water level rose to the point it was in contact with the ceiling.

"See what I mean? We can't get out this way."

Red leaned down taking his shoes off, and pulling off his socks, gauging the length of the water as he did so. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he dropped it into his shoe.

"What the hell are you doing? You can't go in that!"

"Most of it isn't to the ceiling. And the part that is, I can swim under and come out on the other side. I assume at some point the tunnel rises again, dropping the water level," he asked Conrad.

"You're crazy!"

Red looked at him evenly. "We need a way out. Understand? Does the tunnel rise fairly quickly on the other side or not?" he asked, stepping into the water and wading in up to his knees. He was going to do this with or without Conrad.

"Yes, it does! But wait." Swinging his backpack off his back, Conrad unzipped it and took out a large waterproof flashlight and tossed it to Red in the water up to his thighs now. "You'll need to be able to see under the water!"

Red caught the flashlight and shone it down the tunnel, picking up the dripping ceiling above the water. Wading further into the water, he approached waist height as the cold water encircled him, pulling at his legs as he walked through. The water level was rising as he walked and behind him, he could still hear Conrad calling out for him to reconsider. But he wasn't going to. Donald would die if they didn't find a way out. As the ceiling got lower, he approached the part that was completely underwater. Swimming now rather than wading, he ducked under and shone the flashlight further down. Visibility was fair, and coming up to the surface to take one more big breath he dropped down again and began to swim strongly through the tunnel. Time to put all that Navy training to work.

Behind him, Conrad sat down on the tunnel floor and groaned as the glow of the flashlight faded from view. He'd wait though, in case his stubborn friend made it back.

As Red swam through the tunnel, he estimated he'd swam underwater for about 20 feet when he saw the change in the water above him, indicating a water surface. Swimming a few more feet, the water level dropped a little. Not wanting to come up and hit his head on the tunnel roof, he rose slowly and poked his head out of the water. About 18 inches from the ceiling now, he took in a breath as the water lapped around his face, then shone the flashlight further down the tunnel. There was less water to traverse on this side as the tunnel took a slightly sharper incline. Swimming a few feet more he then waded and came out of the water on the far side. The tunnel floor was still sandy and he began walking to see how far they needed to go to get out of here as water poured off him.

He'd made it through with very little problem. But one thing was clear. There was no way Donald could make it through that in his condition. Which posed a dire problem for the agent who needed to get out of the cave. But a new plan was already forming in Red's mind as he walked on through the tunnel to see where it exited.

###

Back in the cave, Ressler and Liz rested as best they could. Ressler had moved further along the couch away from Liz simply because he was so sweaty. He had removed his long sleeve shirt, leaving his grey t-shirt hanging over his jeans. He didn't know what his temperature was. There was a first aid kit visible near the pseudo kitchen in the cave, but he didn't feel the need for numbers. He was hot. He had a fever. That was all he needed to know.

Liz was half laying on the long couch with her feet up almost touching Ressler's thigh. They didn't talk much. Each knew the other didn't feel too great, but they were there for each other. As he glanced at her, the bruises on her face were becoming more pronounced. He could barely imagine what her back and legs looked like.

"Ress…"

"Yeah?"

"They should have been back now, wouldn't you think?" she asked him, leaning back on the couch pillows.

"You know Red. He'll search thoroughly until he finds a way. He's kinda stubborn like that," he said with a soft smile.

"Right. I'm just worried… you really need to get out of here," she said, stating what they both knew to be true.

Ressler was about to answer that he was fine, and be lying through his teeth, when Red and Conrad entered the cave from the rear tunnel. The first thing they noticed was that Red's clothing was wet.

"What happened?" they asked in unison, turning to them as Red and Conrad stood in front of them. Conrad looked to Red, and waved his hand for him to tell them.

"Well, there is good news, and there is bad news," he told the two agents, looking to Ressler with an almost apologetic smile. Ressler caught it immediately and waited for the next part, already knowing he didn't want to hear it.

"What's the good news…?" Liz asked warily.

He smiled at her, touching her knee, "Lizzie, there is a way out."

As she lit up at that news, she saw the look in his eyes and her smile faded. "And what's the bad news…?"

"The bad news is that neither you nor Donald," he looked to him now, "are going to be able to exit through the way I found. Which means-"

Ressler interrupted him, shaking his head and grimacing. "Which means I'm not getting out of here soon. Which means, my appendix will burst. Which means, you wanna slice and dice me. Correct me if I'm wrong." Ressler leaned his head back on the couch and exhaled heavily. Part of him had known this could be a scenario.

"What?!" Liz looked at him horror. "Surely not? Red?"

Red was nodding, looking to them both. "Well, you're partly right Donald. Hear me out."

Behind him, Conrad was looking at the two agents. "Believe me, he spent the entire walk back going over the pros and cons of this. It's not a rush decision."

Ressler lifted his head back up, running his fingers through his sweaty, wet hair. "Oh, well that makes all the difference."

"When I said you couldn't get out, that doesn't mean someone else can't get in. What we need is to bring in a medic or doctor into our little cave down here. We have electricity. We have internet. If we can't get a doctor in person, we can have one online watching the surgery while we do it. He can be there remotely. We can get what we need from the medic for surgical tools-"

Ressler leaned forward, gripping the arm of the couch and rose unsteadily to his feet, clutching his belly. "Listen to yourself! The answer is no. You are NOT cutting into me down here!"

"Donald, your appendix-"

He glared at Red. "They'll get us out of here before it…" he glanced at Liz, "before I die."

Liz was looking up at him, seeing how obviously sick he was. "But what if they don't? What if they can't break through here in time? Aram said there is 15 feet of rocks they're digging through.

"Actually, it's a bigger issue than that. I called Aram on the walk back here, telling him we needed the medic or a doctor, and what the plan was, and-".

Ressler interrupted him again, "Thanks so much for including ME in your hair brained scheme," he panted, leaning over as a spasm of pain shook through him. Turning a little from them, he leaned forward, hands on his knees.

Red was watching him. "Donald, if there was any other way, we'd be taking it. Aram informed me they've come across a section about 4 feet into the tunnel that is basically one huge boulder. It's wedged in so tight they're having to literally drill through it or around it. It's going to take a lot longer. They estimate another 36 to 48 hours."

Conrad rose behind him. "It's true, I heard the conversation. Your man out there is a very excitable fellow, isn't he?"

"Donald, look at me."

Ressler ignored him, his gut on fire as he fought not to throw up again. It would not go well for his case.

Red looked at the agent, hunching over and sweating up a storm. "It's going to take them up to 48 hours to get in here. You have maybe 6 hours at most before your appendix ruptures. And after that, peritonitis will settle in so quick, you won't know what hit you."

On the couch, Liz gasped. "Ress, you have no choice!"

"I have a choice. And I say no," he gasped, reaching for the bowl as his stomach won this round.

Behind him, Liz looked at Red as Ressler threw up again. "Is there no other way?"

"We're out of time. And the longer we wait, the harder it will be to get through to the outside," he told them. "According to Aram, it has started raining outside. The water level in the flooded tunnel will start slowly rising."

Ressler lowered himself to the couch again, sitting back at Liz's feet. He looked sideways at her, flushed and sweating. "Do you want me to do this?"

She looked at him, "I don't see that you have a choice!"

"That's not what I asked, Liz," he panted. "Do YOU want me to do this?"

She understood now. And moving over to him with difficulty as her back screamed in pain, she reached out for his arm. "I do. As hard as it will be, yes, I do," she told him, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Ressler lay his head back on the couch again, closing his eyes and grimacing. After a moment, he opened his eyes, rolled his head slightly to the side and looked at Red.

"Then do it."


	8. The Trapdoor

Aram wasn't sure what was worse. Knowing Agent Ressler was going to have surgery in a dark cave, or knowing that he was the one Mr Reddington had chosen to be his liaison to the outside world regarding said surgery in the dark cave. He was tired. He was wet, having stood out in the rain for an hour before a tent appeared from seemingly nowhere, affording the rescue team some shelter. He hadn't ended up getting that umbrella but right now, he hardly even noticed. Part of him was stressed beyond belief and given the choice, just wanted to take his toys and go home. But the other part was determined to do a good job as lead agent on scene. Director Cooper had faith in him.

And Agent Ressler needed him. And that was hardest of all. Because Ressler was always the capable one. The one in charge. And now the baton had passed to him, and Ressler would be out cold in a cave while they opened up his belly. Looking through the tent flaps he took in the sight of the lighthouse in the rain, rising tall and commanding above its surroundings, biding it's time before its light shone out again. And in a moment of clarity, Aram realized that if Agent Ressler had to actually endure the surgery, he sure as heck could be the support team on the outside.

He straightened as Red finished going over the plan on the phone a second time. "Aram, have you got everything?"

"Got it, Mr Reddington. Mr Shanks has been talking with the doctor that Samar contacted. The surgical instruments are on their way," he replied, looking to Shanks for confirmation, who was now nodding.

"Good man. Once you have the items, seal them in waterproof packaging. Then get yourself and the medic to the coordinates I gave you. We need to move as quickly as we can, Aram. Call us when you're leaving for the meeting point."

"I will," said Aram, nodding to Shanks who had stood by waiting. And while he knew time was of the essence, he held Red on the phone a little longer. "Um, sir. Mr Reddington. How is Agent Ressler doing? Is he going to be okay…?"

From the other end of the phone, he was relieved that Red never hesitated. "He's tough, and holding up well. It's not going to be easy for him, but he'll pull through. This is better in the long run than if we wait it out," he reassured Aram.

"Yes sir. Thank you, Mr Reddington."

"Give my regards to Agent Navabi," Red added, then hung up.

###

Red flipped the phone closed, standing at the rear of the cave and looking down the dark tunnel that led to the flooded section. As he turned, the first thing he saw was Ressler going down, dropping to his hands and knees after throwing up yet again in the bowl.

"Damn," he cursed under his breath. "Donald, why the hell aren't you lying down? Anyone else in your condition would have been flat on their back hours ago," Red reprimanded him, walking toward him and leaning down to the agent. He'd just told Aram that Ressler was tough. But 'stubborn' was the optimum word here.

Ressler didn't answer. Just leaned back on his haunches as Liz slid more toward him on the couch. About to offer another admonishment to the agent, Red stopped as he looked into Ressler's eyes. For the first time he saw trepidation creeping into the agent's countenance.

Red's voice softened, "There is one of those oh-so-comfortable cots over there. Come on, let's get you on it," he told the agent, and gently hoisted Ressler up to his feet. He didn't complain. His gut was beyond agony, but what was the point in mentioning it. Before he lay down, Red added another pillow under his head to raise him up a little more.

Ressler looked at the roof of the cave, half lit in the gentle flickering shadows cast by the oil lamps. He'd agreed to the surgery, and was not going back on that decision. But the very thought of it rattled him. He could die right here in this cave. He'd agreed for Liz, but then the overwhelming reality of what they were about to attempt had hit him. And the worst of it wouldn't be for him. If he did this for her but died during it, she'd have to live with that. He needed to talk to her then talk them all out of this before it went too far.

As Ressler attempted to rise, Red was suddenly in his face, interrupting his thoughts and forcing him to focus on him. "Donald," said Red softly close to his ear, so that only Ressler heard. "I know you're having second thoughts. We can do this. I'll get the medic and bring him back and we'll have the doctor online overseeing the entire surgery on camera. We will get you through this. Do you hear me?"

Ressler's eyes slid to Red and he held his gaze, but did not acknowledge what he'd said.

"Do you hear me? I will get you through this."

As Ressler looked in the criminals eyes, he wanted to believe him.

Red placed his hand on Ressler's chest, feeling the fever radiating through his t-shirt. "While I'm gone, Conrad will stay here and then get you ready for the surgery once the medic and I are back on this side of the water in the tunnel. I will not let you die. Understand?"

Ressler nodded a little as sweat dripped in his eyes and rolled down his face. Red was unable to tell this time if tears ran down with it.

"Do you know why I'm going to do everything in my power to get you safely through this?" he asked, as Ressler looked at him questioningly.

He regarded Ressler quietly, "Because Lizzie would never forgive herself if we let you die, my friend. And we're not going to let her live with that, are we?" he asked, with the barest hint of a smile.

He should have known Red knew where his head was at. No, he was not going to do that to her. And giving Red the smallest of determined smiles, he shook his head.

"Good man," Red whispered to him, patted his chest and then was gone, leaving Ressler contemplating the roof of the cave again.

###

After Red left, Liz made her way carefully off the couch and walked slowly over to Ressler, leaning down to him as he lay on the cot. Her back was trying its best to seize up on her, but she was determined to move and keep the muscles as supple as she could, despite the massive bruising. Her partner needed her. While she hadn't heard what Red had said to him, their conversation being unmistakably private, she had a pretty good idea. He needed their support. And she was going to give it.

Conrad brought a chair for her to sit on beside her partner and then placed a wet cloth in her hand.

"Thank you," she told him, reaching up and touching his arm. And not even asking if he'd mind, Liz gently wiped the sweat from Ressler's face as he closed his eyes for her as she did so. He didn't mind at all.

Conrad stood there a moment, eyeing the two of them together, the unspoken bond between the two agents glaringly apparent. "May I sketch the two of you, while we wait for Red and the medic?" he asked, almost feeling an intruder as Liz now wiped Ressler's sweaty hair as best she could.

"You draw?" Liz asked, surprised as he nodded, smiling at them. "Do you have some here we could see?" she asked him.

"Oh, only a few hundred," he laughed. Walking over to a large cabinet he opened it, revealing piles of sketch books on each shelf. He grabbed a few and gave them to Liz as she put the damp cloth down. Opening the first sketch book, she turned the first few pages, then looked to Conrad in awe.

"Oh my goodness!" she cried, looking at the sketches. "Ress, look at these!" she told him, turning in her chair to where he could also see them as he lay in the cot. Faces leapt from each page, almost alive in their realism yet created from grey pencil instead of flesh and bone. Portraits of old men, young men, old and young women, boys, girls, and the most innocent babies sprang from each page as Liz turned.

"Whoa…" Ressler said quietly. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked Conrad.

Sitting in the couch across from them, he shrugged. "I always drew as a kid, and then did art in high school and college. Throughout my working life, before my 'forced retirement' that is, I always drew. My family and friends would always want me to draw them," he said, smiling, reaching for a sketchpad as he talked to them.

They looked through another sketch book, devoted solely to hands. Old hands and young faced them on each page, folded, open, offering, clinging to each other, praying, pointing and caressing. "These are beautiful," she whispered, looking up at Conrad again.

And still another sketch book was filled with drawings that rivaled anything in Grey's Anatomy. "Wow…these are amazing… Look at this," she showed Ressler again, holding the notebook so they could both see the drawings. Detailed sketches and diagrams of hearts, lungs, kidneys and many more, all painstakingly drawn in such detail it was as if they could reach into the page and lift them up.

"I did those in my years as Coroner," Conrad explained. "I don't think there is an organ I've not drawn at some time or another," he chuckled.

"Just don't get any ideas about drawing my appendix during the surgery okay?" Ressler told him, looking sideways at Conrad from the cot, "Or anything else that I have draped down there."

Liz rolled her eyes at him and smiled, glad to see his sense of humor had returned somewhat.

"I'll resist the urge," Conrad assured him, smiling.

"Oh, my…" Liz had found his latest notebook and was staring at the drawing Conrad had done in the tunnel. Not knowing he'd drawn it in the first place was a surprise. But the detail. The face she knew so well, rendered in pencil brought her fingers to her lips and tears to her eyes. On the white sheet of paper was Ressler; asleep and lying on his back, head tilted to the side with eyes closed and eyelashes against his cheeks. The complete picture of peace; entirely taking out the pain, fever, sweat and dust.

Looking at Conrad, she whispered, "When did you…?"

He smiled and didn't offer an explanation, as she thought back to the only time he could have done it, right after they'd escaped the cave in. Blinking back tears she turned the sketch pad and showed her partner.

Ressler studied the detail in his portrait before glancing up at Liz who was looking at him as her eyes shone. "So I do have a good side."

And unnoticed by the two of them, Conrad had already started sketching them together, his pencil flying over the sketch pad.

###

Red made his way into the tunnel, backpack in place that held rope and knife in case he needed them, as well as the waterproof flashlight. Taking his phone from his pocket he dialed Aram's number. In something that had made Red laugh out loud at the resourcefulness of it all, Conrad had charged up his phone from his power supply in the cave before tossing it to him as he left.

"Mr Reddington," said Aram in answer, "I was literally just picking up my phone to call-"

"Have you left for the meet point?" interrupted Red, walking briskly down the tunnel as his oil lamp chased away the shadows before him. He followed the route through the tunnels, bypassing the ones that led to the cave-ins.

"Yes sir, we just left the beach. We're coming around in the dinghy. Deeks is bringing us in closer to the Sanatorium and we will walk in from there. Oh, and it's still raining," said Aram, the sound of the boat motor in the background.

"And you have the oxygen tanks for traversing the water in the tunnel?" asked Red as he continued walking along the sandy tunnel.

"Yes, we have them strapped to our backs. These things are heavy!"

"Excellent," said Red, and then hung up. Sealing his phone in a plastic bag, he then slipped it in his pocket.

After another twenty minutes or so, he found the water tunnel and turned into it. As he walked, holding up the oil lamp to the walls and ceiling he listened for the tell tale sound of the water. The tunnel was damp and musty after years of flooding. Not a good environment but he wouldn't be in it long.

The sound of dripping water reached him now. Stopping, he threw the backpack down and retrieved the large flashlight from it. As the beam of light pierced the darkness, he made out the water rippling gently in the tunnel about 50 feet from his position. Turning the flashlight to the tunnel wall, he looked for the mark he'd made when he had come back out of the water earlier in the day. It would tell him how much deeper the water had got, and more to the point, how much further he'd need to swim underwater.

Scanning the wall for his mark, he finally found it and sucked in a sharp breath. He could already see how much more water filled the tunnel, coming much further up than previously. The beam of the flashlight showed his mark a good 40 feet further from where he stood at the edge of the water. The water had more than tripled in length in the few hours since they'd been here. And with it still raining, it was still growing.

Throwing off his shoes and socks, he stowed them in the pack and then tossed the closed backpack as far back up the tunnel as he could, the dull thud reached him as it landed on the sandy floor. He hoped it would be far enough back to escape the rising water by the time he came back.

Leaving the oil lamp burning back in the sandy tunnel, he jogged forward then stepped into the water, knife at his belt and flashlight in hand. He walked in quickly, striding against the pressure. As the water reached waist height he plunged into it and swam to the submerged section, treading water before it. It was time to do this. Taking the biggest breath he could muster he then dropped down into the water, swimming as swiftly as he could down the submerged tunnel. He wouldn't beat those 30 something Navy SEALS who could do this twice before breakfast and barely break a sweat, but for a 55 year old he could hold his own.

As he kicked forward through the murky water, he was calculating in his mind. He estimated about 60 feet of underwater swimming this time around. Shining the flashlight through the water ahead of him, he was looking for the tunnel floor to start rising, giving him his approximate half way point. Still swimming strongly, he was alarmed that the tunnel was still dropping. Estimating the distance he'd come to be about 40 feet, the tunnel floor leveled out, then began to rise slightly in front of him. And it needed to. He was at the point of needing to turn back if it had kept descending. And he would have to try again if that happened. He would not fail Donald.

Lungs bursting with the pressure now, still holding his breath and reaching into the water with each stroke, he kicked harder with his legs, propelling himself through the murky depths. Spots were floating before his eyes and still he forced himself onward. He'd gone further than this in training, but that was 30 years ago. A lot of water under the bridge since then, he thought, no pun intended. He had to make it through. And mercifully as his chest strained with the need for oxygen and his vision danced, the depth of the water began to change. Above him the flashlight picked up a water surface. Flipping to his back he rose up, reaching out of the water with his face to find the tunnel ceiling mere inches above him as he gasped and sucked in a large breath. Floating on his back he continued to fill his lungs while still moving toward the head of the tunnel, aware of the support beams near his head. As the water level dropped the ceiling rose up away from him. And turning to his belly, he swam the rest of the way before walking from the water and dropping to his knees on the far side.

###

"There it is!" shouted Deeks, turning the dinghy in toward shore. And not a moment too soon, thought Aram. He hadn't liked the response boat all that much. But clinging to the rope that ringed the 12 foot dinghy as it raced over the waves was another thing altogether. This wasn't something he wanted to repeat. But again, his thoughts returned to Ressler in a cave having his belly sliced open. And compared to that, a little jaunt on a boat across choppy waves wasn't all that bad. Or so he told himself. Through the rain, they made out the beached area as Deeks headed the dinghy into it. And churning through the waves, he ran the small inflatable right out of the water and half up onto the beach.

Safely out of the dinghy and on the beach with the equipment they needed, Shanks then pushed the small inflatable back in to the waves. And with a wave, Deeks gunned the engine and headed out into the bay, turning back toward the lighthouse.

"Let's go!" called Shanks, and as he hoisted the oxygen tanks on his back, Aram set the medical supplies onto his own back. Setting off in the rain they jogged up the wet sand of the beach before running onto the grass under the trees. "Okay, so according to Mr Reddington, we keep going until we're about 50 yards from the gate in the brick wall of the old hospital," panted Aram as he jogged.

"Then we need to hurry. That's quite a way inland," said Shanks, turning back to him as the rainwater ran down him, plastering his dark hair to his face.

Nodding, Aram fell into an easy rhythm beside the medic. As they jogged, Aram was thinking back to his cozy desk at the post office with Samar across from him. After this, he didn't think he'd ever want to set foot out of the war room again. And from now on, whenever Agents Ressler and Keen headed for the elevator and the outside world to face hostiles, he'd have a brand new appreciation for them.

Assuming Agent Ressler lived through this day.

###

Red gathered himself up and left the water behind him, shining the large flashlight above him as he walked barefoot along the sandy tunnel. He knew the way, having come earlier in the day but now it felt further than he remembered. Or perhaps time was more pressing now that this was the real deal and not a practice run.

Water was running down the tunnel walls in spots, slick and shining in his flashlight beam, before collecting and running in a small river toward the water collecting in the lower tunnel. Looking at the sheer quantity of it, he was no longer surprised that the level was rising so quickly.

From the darkness ahead he finally saw what he was looking for. An old metal ladder rising up the tunnel wall and disappearing from sight as it rose to the forest floor. Standing at the base of it, he shone his flashlight up, looking at the round steel trapdoor above. As he began his ascent, he quickly looked at the time. Still daylight and approaching 2:00pm. Climbing to the top of the ladder, he held on with one hand then turned the round handle on the trap door. And standing fully on the steps he pushed the trapdoor open then peered out into the rain, glad for the cover it afforded.

Through the trees he could make out the dark brick wall surrounding the hospital and shook his head at how he'd come full circle in just 12 hours. It felt SO much longer. Laying the trapdoor open fully, he stepped out of the tunnel entrance, coming to stand behind one of the larger trees. Of Aram and the medic, there was no sign. He had confidence they would be here soon though.

His eyes were drawn back to the high wall running through the forest, encircling the old sanatorium. The one difference he noted was that the gate was now closed, its wrought iron gates locking them out, or keeping others in. Off to his right he caught movement, and hunching down he was relieved to see the orange Coast Guard vest of the medic as he ran beside Aram.

They hadn't seen him yet, but he stepped out of the line of the tree now into the open, waving his arm silently toward them. It wouldn't pay to alert hostiles by yelling out. They saw him, and Aram waved back just as silently. He might not be a field agent, but he knew when to keep quiet.

They were a few yards apart when a shot rang out.

"Oh, my God!" Aram suddenly forgot how to be quiet.

Red motioned frantically for them to drop, but they didn't need telling. Hunching down, they took cover under the trees. A look back in the direction the shot had been heard from gave up no clue as to where the gunman was. If they found the trapdoor, the gunman would have access to the tunnel system. Staying put, cursing the fact they were unarmed, Red was studying the trees between him and the two men across from him. If they were quick, they could keep trees between them and the gunman as they made their way to the tunnel entrance.

Shanks had the same idea. Dragging Aram with him, he pulled the agent to the next large tree, moving closer to Red. Another shot rang out, hitting the tree they had just left. Now Red had a bearing on where the muzzle flash was. About 25 yards off to his left, between him and the brick wall. Motioning to Aram and Shanks, they again hopped to the next tree. This time no shot rang out. Apparently their gunman was conserving bullets.

"Come on!" hissed Red, as they edged closer to him. Pointing to the trapdoor with a down motion, they understood. They were close to the tunnel entrance.

But so was the gunman. As the next shot rang out, he was now about 10 yards closer. Shanks saw it at the same time Red did, and looking to Aram, they nodded to each other and ran, zig zagging as they did so, avoiding the next shot that rang out, splintering the tree near them. Running for the tunnel entrance, Shanks quickly dropped inside, the two oxygen tanks giving him some trouble as he maneuvered himself into the entrance. Aram followed as his eyes widened at what was approaching.

The gunman was running for them. For the trapdoor.

"Get in!" yelled Red at Aram as the agent suddenly raced down the ladder. Dropping in behind him, Red reached for the round handle and dragged it off the forest floor. Another shot rang out, much closer now. It hit the trapdoor right beside Red's hand, the ricochet off the bullet coming back and striking his hand. As the metal trapdoor thudded to the forest floor, his hand flinched off the handle and he lost his footing. Almost falling down the ladder he managed to grab a step and keep himself from falling to the tunnel floor.

But he could no longer go back up and close the trapdoor.

"Go!" he called down to the other two as he descended, "Get the tanks on while you run!"

Their only option was to outrun the gunman and get underwater. He would not be able to follow them for long under there. Retrieving his flashlight quickly from where he'd dropped it, Red flew down the tunnel after the medic and Aram.

"Oh, God. Oh, God," panted Aram, as Shanks held onto his arm, setting the tank and pushing the mouthpiece of Aram's oxygen tank to him. There was no time. Trying to remember what Shanks had explained about the snorkel equipment, all he remembered was 'breathe through your mouth'. He felt that should have been followed by 'and kiss your ass goodbye' in their current situation.

Red ran behind them as the gunman climbed down the ladder. Shanks had his own mouthpiece in now and had Red's tank loose, ready to give it to him. The water was ahead, lit up in the beam of Red's flashlight that careened wildly before them as he ran.

Aram stopped at the water's edge. His mouthpiece in his hand. "Oh, dear God."

"Go! Go!" Red yelled, gaining on Shanks now who ran back a few steps to give him his tank. Throwing the strap over his shoulder and getting his mouthpiece ready, Red yelled to Aram. "Get in there!"

"You have seen Poseidon Adventure, right?" was the last thing Aram said before Red collided with him, pushing him into the water and forcing him under as soon as the water was deep enough.

###

In the cave, Ressler thought he might be feeling a little bit better. Resting must have helped, just like Red had told him to do. But he wasn't sure he'd give the criminal the satisfaction of letting him know that. He looked to Liz, leaning back on the chair beside the cot.

"Why don't you get more comfortable on the couch over there?" he asked her, but she just smiled. "I'm fine," and realizing what she'd said, she added, "to quote a friend of mine."

From the couch, Conrad laid his sketchbook down, and looked at his watch. It was time to get the remote doctor set up. Heading to his computer, he typed in the connection details and password that Samar had given them to get two way camera access between them and the doctor.

Behind him, Liz did now make her way to the couch, but only to look at the sketchpad Conrad had left there. She picked it up and from the cot, Ressler saw her smile at the drawing and as he watched her, seeing her face light up as she brought the sketchpad over to him, he had to smile too.

Coming to sit back on her chair, she gave him the sketch pad. As he looked at the drawing, again marveling at the skill, he didn't really look at his part of the drawing. His eyes were drawn to Liz. Conrad had captured her beautifully. And just as he'd done for his own drawing, had left off the bruises and scrapes from her face, leaving her skin flawless as usual. But what struck him was that he had no idea that he and Liz looked like that when they were close together, talking, smiling, being there for each other. So in tune and in sync. Like a couple. Conrad had seen it and captured it, and that was what Liz had liked in it too, he realized.

They heard Conrad talking, and turned to the computer to see him conversing with a man in his 40's. The doctor who would oversee the surgery. Sobering, Ressler and Liz looked to each other.

"He's awake, yes. Let me see if I can get him over here for you," said Conrad, turning toward them.

"I believe my presence is required," Ressler whispered to Liz, as he dropped his legs over the edge of the cot and slowly sat up. Getting his bearings, he then moved to the edge of the bed and stood as Conrad came and assisted him. Making his way to the computer, he sat down as the doctor introduced himself.

"Agent Ressler, may I call you Don? Doctor Jeff Fielding. Pleased to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were different. I understand you're a little under the weather."

The man had a way of understating the obvious, thought Ressler as he sat before him, flushed and in pain. "You could say that, yes," he replied.

Behind them, as Ressler spoke with Dr Fielding, Liz watched as Conrad pulled the cot away from the wall, positioning it near the computer. The cot would soon become the operating table. It was real. This was going to happen. And suddenly all Liz wanted to do was tell them not to do it. That they'd wait it out. But she couldn't tell them that. It was in motion now. Her partner was doing this because she had told him she wanted him to. Turning away as tears fell, listening to him talk to the doctor and explain his symptoms and how he was doing, all she wanted was for him not to have to go through this.

###

Swimming frantically through the tunnel, helping Aram with his mouthpiece as he did so, Red was waiting for their pursuer to turn back. He hadn't so far, and the tunnel was still descending. They weren't half way yet, and he wasn't sure how much more water was still ahead of them as the level kept steadily rising with the rain. A bullet whizzed by them, sounding hollow and sluggish in the water. Aram stared at him beside him, and again, Red pulled the agent forward.

As Aram swam, he didn't think he'd ever been so afraid in all his life. This was so much worse than when Anslo Garrick took the post office. They'd been able to breathe then. They hadn't been surrounded by murky water and swimming in a claustrophobic tube of rain water. With bullets flying by. Well, there had been bullets, but this. This was terrifying.

Another bullet whizzed by and a cloud of blood suddenly appeared in the water to Red's left. Where the medic was. Turning quickly, Red reached for the man, letting go of Aram in the process.

As the bullet hit Shanks his mouthpiece dropped from his mouth as he instinctively cried out. The bullet had caught his outstretched hand as he swam, tearing through it as the water filled with blood around him. He could still swim with his left, but his right hand was all but useless.

As another bullet flew by them, Red recoiled then reached for Shanks again. Picking up the mouthpiece he quickly placed it in the medic's mouth. He couldn't do anything else but drag him along. Turning, relieved to see that Aram was still beside him to his right, the tunnel ascending slightly now. They were past the half way mark and from the lack of bullets he now had to ascertain that their gunman had turned back with his lungs bursting, unable to pursue them any longer.

Seeing the medic shot had done two things to Aram. One, scared him to the point he just wanted to close his eyes and will himself somewhere else. Anywhere but here. And two, on opening his eyes he had swam under Reddington and come up on the other side of Shanks to help haul him along. And swimming through the water, glancing across to Red as they helped the medic, his mind was racing. He was in the field. He was helping a shot comrade. Helping Mr Reddington. And suddenly all he could think of as he swam was,  _'Aram Mojtabai, 007.'_

The water level was dropping now, as their feet found the bottom of the tunnel. Still swimming they went a few feet further until they were able to stand with the water at their waists. Retrieving the flashlight that was tied to his belt, Red stopped and shone the light on the medic's hand as he held it. It was a clean wound, as far as gunshots went. A through and through, entering the back of his hand and exiting through his palm near his index finger.

Dropping their snorkel mouthpieces from their mouths, they stood in the water and looked at the medic's hand dripping blood into the water.

"Well, this changes things," said Red.

Aram's brain finally caught up. "Oh, my God. Who's going to do the surgery?!"

"I've still got one hand," said Shanks unsteadily as they walked from the water.

"And Conrad has two," said Red.


	9. Team Effort

In the cave, Ressler was still talking with Dr Fielding. Leaning on the desk, face flushed and grimacing in pain, he strove to concentrate on what the doctor was asking onscreen.

"I need to examine you, Don," said the doctor.

"How are you gonna do that?"

He smiled at Ressler. "Same way we're going to do the surgery. I'll have you lay down and have Mr Lucas press on your abdomen while I observe, then I can get an idea of where your appendix is sitting," he explained.

It actually made sense, and looking at Conrad who was now standing by him, Ressler nodded. Moving with difficulty off the computer chair, he lay down on the cot. Loosening his belt and opening his jeans a little he then lay back and pulled his t-shirt up off his belly. Liz came and sat by his head, keeping out of the line of the camera that Conrad was repositioning so the doctor could still see with Ressler laying down.

"Ready?" Conrad asked Ressler, standing over him now.

Glancing quickly up at Liz, then back at Conrad, Ressler replied. "Yeah…"

Following the doctors instructions, Conrad pressed in different areas on Ressler's abdomen with different pressures. As he flinched in pain, Liz leaned down to him, talking to him.

While the doctor wasn't in the cave, having him there remotely was more reassuring than Ressler had imagined. As Dr Fielding watched and talked with them, he had Conrad press in the lower right quadrant. Ressler expected it to be excruciating, as when Red had first diagnosed him. But while agonizing it wasn't much worse than the other places his stomach had been pressed.

Looking up at Liz as she sat by him, Ressler gave her a small smile. "I'm fine," he told her quietly, catching his breath.

"Mr Lucas-"

"Please, call me Conrad," he told the doctor, looking to the camera and computer screen as he stood over Ressler.

"Conrad, could you press there again, deeper this time. Sorry, Don, this will hurt…" he said from the screen.

Following the doctor's instructions he did as asked. Ressler squirmed under him, panting in pain but remaining as still as he could for the examination. As Dr Fielding watched on the camera, he ascertained where the appendix was sitting and instructed Conrad where to draw a 4 inch line along Ressler's lower belly. The incision line.

"Okay, you can rest there for a bit Don," the doctor told him.

"How's it looking?" asked Ressler, looking at the computer screen as Conrad placed a light sheet over him.

"Well, your belly is softer than I'd expect, and the pain appears to be very evenly spread across your entire lower abdomen, though definitely more tender in the lower right," Dr Fielding informed him, "You definitely have appendicitis, though there wasn't really much doubt from the symptoms."

"It doesn't feel quite as… sharp as it did earlier," Ressler told him facing him as he lay on the cot. "I guess that's good," he added.

The doctor smiled, looking at Ressler as he tilted his head a little, "Don't let that deceive you, Don. If you're feeling a little better, that's not good. Not good at all," he told him, as Liz looked up to the doctor worriedly.

"Why?" Ressler asked and received the answer from both Dr Fielding and Conrad simultaneously.

"Your appendix has ruptured."

###

"What are we going to do?" asked Aram as they walked from the water with Shanks between them. "I mean, about the surgery. But what about," he looked back at the water, "them? They could still come through, right?"

Red was still looking at Shank's hand. "They could. First thing we're going to do is wrap this hand and stop the bleeding as best we can," said Red as the medic turned from looking back at the water.

"Just give me some gauze and a bandage out of the supplies there. I can wrap it up as we keep moving. We can't stay here, that much is obvious," said Shanks, leaning down to the water to again wash the blood from his hand. The water was still rising, imperceptibly swallowing small stones in the sand as it crept up the tunnel. "And while we head to this cave of yours, you can tell me just who the hell that guy was, and why he was shooting at us," he added, looking to Red.

Nodding to the medic, Red moved to Aram's back and retrieved the package of surgical supplies. "Aram, call Lizzie. Have her put it on speaker so we can talk to all of them." Finding what he needed from the medical supplies, he handed it to Shanks who proceeded to wrap his hand with the gauze and bandages.

Red grabbed his own backpack that was now about 4 feet from the water's edge and after quickly throwing his shoes and socks on he stood up. "Let's get out of here," he told them, with a last look at the dark water behind them.

Aram dialed Liz's number as they headed up the tunnel. Answering, her voice came to them.

"Are you guys almost back? Because… you need to be," she told them. Red heard the concern in her voice.

"We are Lizzie-"

Conrad interrupted him, "Red, his appendix has ruptured."

"Aahh, man," hissed Shanks.

Aram looked worriedly at the two of them. He was useless here. He may have managed to swim through a tunnel and help the medic, which he had to admit, he was kinda proud of, but that was about as close as he was going to get to cutting a person open.

Red looked to Shanks, shaking his head, "Got it. We should still be in time. We do have a minor glitch though. Due to unforeseen circumstances, our esteemed medic here," he looked up at Shanks, shining the flashlight for him as the medic applied the dressing to his own hand, "is incapacitated. He will not be able to handle the primary part of the surgery."

They heard Liz gasp, as Conrad's voice came over the phone. "What happened?"

"Will explain when we have more time. For now, Conrad, you're our surgeon. And don't get all bashful on us. You had to have pre-med and at least two years of medical school training before you became a coroner," Red told him as they walked briskly, still shining the flashlight on Shanks hand as he finished wrapping the bandage around it.

"Four years actually," replied Conrad, and Red could almost see the man smiling.

"Excellent. You see? We're fine people. We will back there in about 30 minutes. Donald, how are you holding up?"

From the phone his voice came, tired and drawn, "I'm fine." And in the background they immediately heard Liz chiding him with, "Of course you are."

Red smiled, shaking his head at the agent. "Good man. Be ready, Donald. The hands may have changed, but the outcome is not in doubt."

###

Liz hung up the phone, still looking at Ressler before they both turned to Conrad. On the computer screen, Dr Fielding had also heard the news.

Ressler looked at the man. "You can do this?"

"I've seen a lot of appendixes in my day. Now granted, they've been on… the dearly departed, but yes, I can do this. It's been a lot of years since I've done any medical procedures," he added, "but I'm sure it's like riding a bike," he told them.

Liz looked at him, "That didn't exactly instill confidence," she said.

"Liz, he'll do fine," said Ressler, looking up at her.

From the screen, Dr Fielding spoke to Conrad. As he stepped over to the computer, the doctor brought up a video of an appendectomy and proceeded to talk Conrad through what he was seeing. Giving him a crash course.

Behind them, Liz leaned down to Ressler as he lay on the cot, partly to avoid looking at what was on the screen, "Are you okay with this?" she asked him, noting the sweat dripping down his face. He was burning up with fever, his normally light ginger hair dark and spiky with sweat. She wiped his face again with the damp cloth.

He smiled at her and raised his hand to touch her arm. "I am. And you know why? Because Reddington chose him to do it." He raised his eyebrows at her and chuckled at that. "Amazing, huh?" he said, "But I trust Red that much with this."

Liz smiled nervously at him, hearing Dr Fielding in the background explaining to Conrad which retractors and clamps to use, and knew he was telling the truth.

###

Not quite thirty minutes later they heard voices from the tunnel, before Red, the medic and Aram stepped into the cave. Conrad met them as they dropped their scuba tanks against a wall before they deposited the medical supplies on the small table. At the sight of Aram, Liz rose from her chair near Ressler and stood to greet him.

"Liz! Oh, my gosh, look at…" He was walking to her, concerned at the bruising on her face and put his arms around her to hug her. She winced in pain, and he suddenly stepped back at her exclamation. "Oh! I'm sorry!" he apologized, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, really, Aram," she told him, mustering her best smile.

He looked beyond her now to Ressler. "Agent Ressler, um, how are you feeling?" he asked, knowing that was a stupid question. But it was the thing to ask.

Flushed and sweaty, Ressler turned to Aram. "I'm good, thanks," he panted, "I don't need a hug."

"Oh, right, yes," said Aram, coming to look at him as he lay under the sheet on the cot. He really did not look good. "I brought the medical supplies," he told Ressler, then stopped. He may as well have said 'I carried a watermelon'.

"Thanks," Ressler told him, closing his eyes as more sweat ran in them.

At the table Red, Shanks and Conrad were going through the package of surgical supplies, getting them set out on a tray in some semblance of order. Scalpels, tweezers, clamps, needles, thread and retractors lay on the tray. Conrad looked to the medic, introducing himself. "I'd be happy to have your assistance, even with one paw, if you're up to it."

"Hey, I'm on it," replied Shanks.

Conrad returned to Ressler with the surgical instruments, speaking with Dr Fielding again. "As you can see, doctor, we have many hands here to assist. It's a team effort."

Red turned to Ressler and Liz, almost knocking into Aram as he did so and leaned down to them both. "We'll be starting soon, Donald. So you need to be undressed under that sheet."

Red turned back to Dr Fielding as Ressler looked to Liz. He really didn't feel like stripping down in front of them displaying his wares for all to see. Liz understood and leaned down to him, "Just hold the sheet over you," she whispered, then went around and removed his boots and socks for him. He then proceeded to wriggle out of his jeans and underwear under the sheet as she pulled them off his lower legs, depositing his clothing off to one side. Arms raised, he pulled off his t-shirt, then lay back down.

He looked up at her, a strange little smile on his lips. "Didn't think I'd be laying naked next to you today," he said softly, and she actually blushed, leaning down and chuckling as she sat by his left shoulder, keeping out the way of the men. Her eyes found the bullet scar on his right shoulder and she raised her eyes in question.

"War wound," he told her and before she could ask, Red was at their side again.

"You okay?" he asked Ressler, leaning down to him.

Ressler regarded him, "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied as Red smiled reassuringly at him and Liz.

"Good. We have to get a couple of IVs into your hands here and since our medic is a hand short, that falls to me. That way we can start you on antibiotics. You and I have done this before, Donald," he smiled as he tore open the pack containing the IV tubing.

"Believe me, I know," Ressler told him, laying his head back and looking up at the cave ceiling again as Red placed the IV in his right hand. After the needle went in, leaving the thin plastic tube in place, Red, positioned the tubing then taped it in place. "There, piece of cake," he told Ressler.

"Easy for you to say."

"Okay, now for your other hand," smiled Red, getting the second bag of tubing and needles.

"You just love torturing me, don't you?" asked Ressler, turning his head to look at Red.

"I consider it my life's work," he chuckled as he held Ressler's left hand and placed the IV.

Shanks came over to them as Red was finishing up the second IV. Liz looked at his bandaged hand. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," she told him.

"Oh, I'll live. Just a bummer for today. I feel like a fifth wheel. But I have the antibiotics here that will start fighting that nasty infection in your gut," he told Ressler, then turned to Red, "if you can attach this to the IV. You seem to know your way around them."

Ressler smiled a little. "Oh, don't encourage him, or he'll kick you all out and do everything himself."

Red looked to Shanks. "Donald and I have been around the block a time or two," he explained as the medic nodded his head, seeing a definite connection between the two men.

As the antibiotics started dripping down the portable IV pump that had been hung from the tall cabinet in the cave, Shanks turned back to Ressler, now placing a digital blood pressure cuff on Ressler's wrist and a pulse-ox on his finger. "I also have the anesthetic for you when we're ready. I'll administer that via the IVs also, and you'll be out in no time. How much do you weigh?" he asked.

"About 180. But hey, I've puked up half my intestines and I'm pretty sure I saw a kidney come up too, so who knows now," he told the medic, smiling ruefully.

Shanks grinned at him, "We'll say 180 and call it good," he told Ressler, then turned to Liz. "And I'll show you how to get his blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen sats."

Ressler nodded to the medic in thanks, and then looked at the activity around them. Conrad and Red were speaking with Dr Fielding, having got everything laid out. Aram had set up a work light that Conrad had given him to give them good visibility. Shanks had his kit nearby, and was measuring out the anesthetic into the injection, and doing a good job for a one handed man.

Glancing to Liz, Ressler looked at her as she viewed everything before them. "It will be okay, Liz."

Everything was set. Conrad stood at Ressler's right side, then turned to look at them around him. "Okay team, these are the positions, so that we all know what our duties are. I will be the primary and will perform the appendectomy, making the incisions and suturing. Red and our one handed Mr Shanks here will hold retractors and clamps for me, swab and rinse the abdomen when needed. Dr Fielding will talk us through every step. Aram, your job is to make sure the camera is positioned where Dr Fielding can observe the surgery at all times. Liz, you will take vitals when Shanks asks for them, and keep our patient comfortable," he told them, as they all nodded, aware of their assigned duties.

Laying on the cot, Ressler spoke up. "And I'll just be here taking a nap, if anyone needs me."

###

It was time. "Ready, Donald?" asked Red.

Ressler nodded, then gave a little smile to all of them. "I'm sorry you have to do this. But thank you. I think."

"No problem at all," smiled Conrad, as Shanks got ready to inject the anesthetic in the IV. "Shall we?"

"Wait." Liz was suddenly in Ressler's face, leaning close as she locked eyes with him. And leaning down, she gently kissed him, her lips brushing his. Lifting back up, she smiled at him. "For luck," she told him.

He held her eyes for a few seconds before reached his arm up and pulling her head back down to him, kissing her firmly, his tongue lightly touching her lips and lingering there a moment before breaking contact with her. "For me," he smiled, as Liz cracked up at him, the tension in her shoulders suddenly releasing.

"Oh, smooth move, sir," said Shanks beside him, grinning at Ressler.

Ressler looked sideways at the medic, a faint smile still on his features, "Now I'm ready."

Red laughed, and looked to the computer screen where Jeff Fielding was chuckling. "I've seen worse in my OR's, believe me," he told them.

"Okay, then here we go, I'll administer the anesthetic," said Shanks, suddenly all business as he placed the injection into the IV on Ressler's left hand, guiding it expertly one handed. "You'll feel a little light headed, then you won't know much of anything," he told Ressler, now pulling the needle from the IV and capping it off.

As the anesthetic made his head swim, Ressler felt a momentary uneasiness at the loss of control and turned back to Liz, who was leaning forward in her chair close by his head. "Sleep well," she told him, as her hand rested on his forearm.

"…Liz…" he whispered as his breathing became more regular. His last view was of her blue eyes close by him as his eyes closed and he fell unconscious.

Dr Fielding spoke up from the computer, "Okay, so get his belly covered in Betadine, and then drape him. After that, Conrad, he's all yours and you can make your incision."

Aram moved the camera so that it focused on Ressler's belly now as his betadine covered skin was covered in green surgical drapes from chest to knees, leaving a gap on the right side of his abdomen. Conrad's drawn line was visible through the opening. Placing the scalpel, he looked at them a moment, and as Red nodded to him, he cut evenly along the line. Red wiped the small amount of blood away, before reaching for the retractors.

Liz couldn't look. At the sight of her partner's skin being cut, she turned back to him, determined to just focus on the upper part of his body. Shanks smiled at her. "It's okay, just concentrate on keeping him wiped down and give me vitals when we need them," he told her. "Actually, here," he told her, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and giving it to her. "Listen to his heart."

Placing the stethoscope to her ears, she gently placed the round drum to his chest. As the steady thump of his heart filled her ears, she smiled, looking at him unconscious beside her, mouth slightly open and his head still tilted toward her. Reaching for the damp cloth, she wiped the sweat from his face and as she drew back and looked at her sleeping partner, she saw Conrad's drawing come to life before her.

Aram was having a problem looking too, which was an issue since he needed to. "Aram, keep the camera steady. Actually, you can probably put it on the tripod for now, and aim it down to the incision," said Red, looking at the agent who was a little green around the gills.

"Um, I'm okay. I can hold the camera," said Aram still waving it around slightly. He was determined to do this for Agent Ressler.

"This is all rather different for you, isn't it, Agent Mojtabai?" Red asked him, glancing up at the agent as he held the retractor in place for Conrad. "Away from your desk and your trusty laptop. I must say though, you've surpassed any expectations I had of you. You're doing an excellent job, Aram."

"I am? I am. Yes. Thank you, Mr Reddington." And suddenly, the camera was much steadier. Red smiled a little to himself, then returned his concentration to Conrad. He was cutting through the fatty layer under the skin now, and once through that he'd reach the abdominal muscles. Seeing some blood, Red swabbed it with gauze, before stealing a quick glance to Liz as she sat close by Donald's head, listening to his heartbeat.

"How's he doing, Lizzie?"

Hearing him she turned a little and gave him a thumbs up. Her partner's heart was beating steadily in her ears and under the current circumstances, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

From the computer screen, Dr Fielding was watching on the camera and instructed Conrad on the next part for when he'd reach the tougher muscles to cut through.

"But first, see that blood vessel? We need to clamp it twice, then cut it across the middle between each clamp, then tie each end off. It will be in your way if you don't move it, and you will likely cut it," he told Conrad. "Aram, could you come in closer on that shot for me, thanks."

"Got it, thanks doc" said Conrad, concentrating on the task at hand. While the procedure of cutting into a body was familiar to him, doing it under such circumstances and on a living, breathing patient was definitely keeping him on his toes. It had been a long time since med school. But as he maneuvered his scissors under the blood vessel, separating it from the surrounding tissue, he also realized something else. He was enjoying this. As stressful as it was on his new friends around him, this was the most excitement he'd had in years. It brought back memories of a past life. One that had disappeared after his 'untimely death'.

As Dr Fielding continued instructing Conrad, he worked on getting through the small blood vessel as Red clamped it in place. As Conrad cut the vessel, Shanks spoke to Liz. "Vitals, please Liz?" he asked her, and she looked on the pulse ox and gave those to him. Then lifting Resser's wrist up and bending it at the elbow, she took his blood pressure. Giving that to Shanks, he nodded. "Very good."

Aram stood in the background as the three men hunched over Ressler, and Liz sat at his shoulder. Though it was hard to tell it even was Agent Ressler, he realized. It was just a square of flesh with an incision in it surrounded in green drapes that seemed apart from the rest of the agent's body. A strange calm had come over him as they all worked together. Granted, all his job entailed was holding onto a rod that held a tiny camera, but he had come to think of himself as the "Remote Surgical Media Liaison." And he'd be the best RSML he could be.

As Liz listened to Ressler's heart, it kept her calm. Like Aram, now that the surgery was progressing things seemed calmer. Gone was the rushing around to get Ressler prepped. From behind her, Conrad and Red were discussing cutting through the muscles as Dr Fielding observed. "Cut those in the opposite direction to the skin incision, and once through those, we will be able to see the white peritoneum."

Red was leaning over and moving the retractors further down as each layer was cut, opening up more of the incision. Beside him, Shanks had become 'chief swabber', and expertly swabbed up each blood spill, keeping the area clean. "There it is…" said Red, and even Liz turned around.

"His appendix…? You can see it?" she asked, removing the stethoscope.

"Not yet, Lizzie, but we can see the last layer covering it, the peritoneum. Once we're through that, we'll be able to see it," he told her.

"Careful with the peritoneum as you cut it, so you don't cut the cecum underneath it," said Shanks, leaning over.

"Hold it in the clamps and make sure it's moving freely before you cut it," added Dr Fielding from the computer.

As they clamped the peritoneum, they each breathed a sigh of relief as Conrad cut it a little, then safely maneuvered the scalpel in to cut a longer incision into it.

"Tighten that camera angle, Aram. Thank you. Now Conrad, since he's ruptured, you'll have to-"

They never heard what Dr Fielding said.

The entire cave was suddenly plunged into darkness as the power went out.

Liz gasped, instinctively gripping Ressler's arm as across from her Shanks stood up quickly. "What the hell?!"

Conrad froze in the dark, not daring to move his hands with the scalpel inside Ressler.

It took Aram a few seconds to realize he didn't need to hold the camera anymore, and holding the pole close to him, he fished his phone out of his pocket and lit up the area with the flashlight on his phone.

"Shine it down here!" Red told him and holding the phone, shining the light into the abdominal incision, Conrad safely removed the scalpel. Standing back from Ressler a moment, he looked to the computers and the power cable snaking up the wall.

Aram looked at Conrad, "Did you forget to pay your bill…?" He was ignored.

"Shit," said Conrad. Pulling off his bloody gloves, he tossed them into the trash and went to light the oil lamps. As the soft light filled the cave, he held one close to the power supply behind the computers. It was completely dead. The smell of burning wires came from the computers.

Shanks stayed by Ressler, and gently placed another piece of green drape over his open incision.

"Has this happened before?!" Liz asked, rising to her feet, and hovering over Ressler in a protective stance. She wasn't leaving his side.

"No, it has not," Conrad told her,

"Oh! Mr Reddington, you don't think-"

"That's exactly what I think Aram. It's our friends on the outside. They've cut the power to the cave," said Red, thinking rapidly.

"They could be coming!" Aram added turning to the tunnel entrance in fear.

"I would be surprised if they are not. We gave them the way in," Red told him, scowling as he also looked to the far tunnel entrance. "But the first thing we HAVE to do is finish the surgery," he told them. "We cannot leave Donald like this."

Conrad was gathering oil lights around them, bringing the light in closer. "Agreed. How many phones do we have with flashlights?"

"Mine does," said Liz, fishing it out of her pocket. "And Resslers too. I have his phone," she said, lighting them both up.

"Okay Lizzie, new job. You and Aram are to provide us with as much light as we can get here. We need to move safely, but quickly," Red told them, then looked to Conrad.

"I think we can manage it without Dr Fielding, after seeing the prep video and his prior instructions, don't you, my friend?"

Conrad was donning fresh gloves. "Absolutely. As long as we don't get any more surprises. Okay team. Let's roll."

Tears suddenly pricked Liz's eyes at Conrad's words. She glanced at Red as he held the clamps while Shanks removed the additional covering he'd put over the incision. Conrad picked up the scalpel and cut through the peritoneum, finally exposing the abdominal organs underneath it.

"We're in," he told them. "Now to find that appendix…" he said, pushing his gloved finger in and circling around the incision. And as his finger came up, Red placed some grips into the opening, holding what was on Conrad's finger. As he drew it out of the incision, the appendix, horribly red and inflamed, and slowly leaking lay before them.

"It's ruptured alright," said Shanks quietly. For a moment they just looked at it, then sprang into action again.

"Clean out the area as much as you can with swabs, then we'll need to flush it with saline," said Conrad as he viewed the blood vessels leading to the appendix. As they worked quickly but carefully, Liz kept stealing glances to the tunnel beyond their lighted area. As she did so, Aram threw glances at her, both of them silently aware that it was likely only a matter of time before someone appeared in their cave. And waiting for that to occur was agonizing.

Once Red and the medic had cleaned out the infection in the abdomen, Conrad nodded in satisfaction. "Okay, let's cut its blood supply," he instructed as they placed the clamps. While Liz and Aram were nervously looking toward the tunnel, the three men working were concentrating on their patient. Working together in a procession of clamping, cutting then tying off the blood vessels leading to the swollen appendix, they began to cut off its blood supply ready for removal.

Holding the phones to give light, Liz tried not to look at what was now laying on her partner's belly as the three men huddled around it, working together. She didn't know what was worse. Looking at his sick appendix, or looking at the tunnel. In the end, she turned and looked at her partner's sleeping face, lit softly in the glow coming off her phone.

Aram spoke up, "Um, Mr Reddington, should I inform Samar what happened so she can let Dr Fielding know?"

Red spoke to Aram without looking up. "Yes, do that. The poor man will be worried sick."

"He's not the only one," said Aram quietly, as he texted Samar, keeping his phone in a position to still shine the flashlight onto the surgery.

"How is your phone still working?" asked Liz quietly, looking at him. "You swam underwater."

"Oh, it has one of those waterproof, shockproof, everything proof covers," he told her, while reading Samar's reply. "Okay, Samar has contacted the doctor and explained what's going on. Well, kinda. I'm sure she didn't mention the part about the scary bad guys who will be knocking on our door soon," he told her, looking worriedly back to the tunnel.

And he'd no sooner spoken, when a dark figure emerged from the tunnel followed closely by a second man. Both wearing black wet-suits and yielding semi-automatic assault weapons, they stepped out of the dark and walked toward Conrad.

Horrified, Aram turned and met Liz's eyes, "Oh, God," he whispered, stepping backward into the dark.

"Conrad Lucas!" the first man yelled, the sound echoing through the cave.

Startled out of his concentration, Conrad jumped, his scalpel nicking a blood vessel as he did so. Blood spurted out onto Ressler's stomach as Shanks quickly placed a gauze swab there to collect it.

"Shit!" Conrad swore under his breath.

"Conrad Lucas! You're a hard man to find," the man called out again as they approached him, weapons pointed to Conrad's head. "Come with us. Now!"

Red spoke up, addressing the men. "Open your eyes," he told them, waving his hand to Ressler on their pseudo operating table. "It should be obvious, even to you, that we need him right now."

Turning to the gunmen, Conrad eyed them steadily, noticing their spokesman had a bandage on a badly bruised nose. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he told the gunman. "Can't you see that right now I have a problem?!" His eyes dropped from the gunman as he pointed to the blood pooling on Ressler's stomach, running into the incision and seeping into the green drapes.

The broken nosed gunman dropped his weapon from Conrad. Stepping quickly, he pushed Liz roughly out of the way, dropping her to the floor.

Raising the assault rifle to Ressler's temple, he faced Conrad. "I can take care of your problem. Won't take me any time at all."

"No!" screamed Liz, clambering to her feet, as Red helped her up, "Don't you dare! Don't!"

The man eyed her steadily, the gun barrel pressing on Ressler's temple so hard it moved his head. "That's up to him, sweetheart. Lucas comes with us, or I'll put a bullet in this man's head."

"No!" Liz screamed, dropping to her vulnerable partner as the man readied the assault weapon. "Please! No!"

Shanks was watching all this, vainly trying to stop the bleeding on Ressler's abdomen, holding his gloved hand over the cut blood vessel. But blood was still seeping out from under his hand.

"STOP!" Conrad shouted to the man, stepping closer to him. "I will come with you," he told the gunman as he tore his gloves off his hands. "But you will not hurt this man."

Conrad stood before the broken nosed man as the gunman turned to him. "You have no beef with these good folks. It's me you want. Let's go," Conrad told him, edging back from Ressler in an effort to protect his patient from the volatile gunman. As the gunman stepped back, moving the rifle butt from Ressler's head, Red spoke to him.

"Glad to see there is some sense under that broken nose after all," said Red, tilting his head at the gunman.

The gunman turned back to Ressler, looking at Liz. "No, sweetheart, I won't hurt this man," he told her, looking at Ressler as Liz hovered over him. "But I have no qualms about hurting this smart mouth," he said and swung the butt of the assault rifle hard into Reddington's head, immediately dropping him where he stood, his head hitting the side of the tall metal cabinet as he went down.

"Let's go!" Broken nose yelled to his colleague and together they shoved Conrad in front of them as the others looked on in horror. As they headed for the tunnel, they threw a scuba tank on Conrad's back and picked up the other two to take with them.

"So no one has any hero complexes about following us," he told them. And then they were gone, pushing Conrad ahead of them and running down the dark tunnels as Conrad's patient lay bleeding on the table behind him.

Liz dropped to Red, shining her phone light on him. "Red! Oh, God, Red!"

Aram came over to her, feeling Red's pulse in his neck. "He's alive, but he's out cold," he told her, standing and looking wide eyed at Ressler. Shanks looked at Aram, his hand still covering the cut blood vessel. Blood ran down the side of the drapes, dripping on the sandy floor.

"Aram," said Shanks, "Get over here. I need you to be my hands. I will guide you, but I need you to finish the surgery."


	10. Plan C

"What?" Aram was sure his ears had failed him. "You want me to what…?"

Shanks regarded him steadily. "I need you over here," he told the agent, "I've clamped the bleeder but I need help to complete this." His voice was steady and controlled. But there was no mistaking the urgency.

Aram was edging back into the dark a little. Away from the medic. Away from Ressler's belly with its small square of cut flesh that suddenly seemed to fill the cave. "I can't do that. I don't even do paper cuts well. Which is why I use tablets and ebooks, and-"

"Aram. Get over here."

"You know what? I watched Mr Reddington in the box with Agent Ressler. I saw on the video feed what he did. Liz," he looked to her, his eyes pleading, "you saw that too. He's the one you want." Dropping to the floor beside Red he patted on his cheeks firmly. "Mr Reddington. Mr Reddington! Wake up!"

"Aram, let me explain this. Your Mr Reddington is knocked out and we can't wait for him to come round. And even if he did, the last thing I'd expect from him would be to make precision moves. I can't finish this one handed," Shanks told him, "and that's why I need you to complete this with me."

"I'll slip or do something really scary and then Agent Ressler will be dead. And I would have killed him. I can't do this."

"Aram!" Liz held Aram's arm, thinking fast. "Yes you can. Think of it as a software problem. There is a virus over there in that hard drive and you need to quarantine it and then eradicate it. Then run new software and patch it up…" she told him, looking into his eyes, raising her eyebrows hopefully at him.

And as ridiculous as her scenario was, once heard, he couldn't unhear it. "That's really kinda messed up, Liz."

"Damn it! I need one of you to get over here!" Shanks called to them again.

Liz turned back to Aram. Stepping forward and in his face now as she raised her voice. "Aram Mojtabai! Are you seriously going to look him in the eye when he wakes up and tell him 'We couldn't finish the surgery because I was too afraid to step out of my comfort zone?' Seriously? Are you really going to do that to him?" It was a lot to put on him, she was well aware of that. Too much. But they didn't have a lot of choices with Red out cold at their feet.

And just as she was about to unleash another barrage at him, he visibly calmed. His dark eyes held hers then glanced quickly to their unconscious colleague. "No, that wouldn't be cool. Not cool at all," he told her, taking a step toward Ressler and Shanks before glancing back to her.

"Way to go with the pep talk, Liz," he added, holding her eyes a moment longer. He took a deep breath, smiled nervously then went straight to Shanks. Bending down again as her back muscles screamed, Liz carefully put a pillow under Red's head as he lay on the ground. She couldn't do any more for him right now. Her partner needed her at his side.

"What do you need me to do?" Aram asked, taking deep breaths as he looked at Ressler's stomach.

"Just have confidence in yourself that you can do this. That's what I need from you. Understand?" Shanks told him calmly.

Dropping her eyes from Aram, Liz turned to her partner to get his vitals. His heart rate had increased. As soon as she donned the stethoscope she heard it. That beautiful steady beat was now faster, compensating for the bleeding. Looking up at Shanks, she realized he probably already knew that. Before he'd even asked, she took her partner's vitals and gave them to the medic.

As Shanks lifted his hand to expose the incision under the clamps, spilled blood spurted onto Aram's gloved hand. "Oh, God," he whispered, snatching his hand away.

"Confidence, Aram."

"Aram, you can do this," Liz told him. "Software. You need to get that virus taken care of…"

Dragging his eyes away from the blood pool on Ressler's stomach he looked to her. "That's a really bad analogy, Liz. But thank you."

As Shanks instructed, Aram flushed out the abdominal cavity with saline, clearing it of the blood that had seeped in when the gunmen had entered their cave. "Okay," said Shanks, tossing the empty saline bottle away, "Now we can begin."

"Okay. Right. Let's do this," Aram said, looking at the cleaned incision in front of him.

And Aram the computer geek, comfortable with screens and algorithms and an insane love of numbers, took a deep breath and picked up a surgical scalpel.

###

As Shanks instructed Aram and assisted with his one hand, Liz watched them. No longer turned off at what she was looking at, or at least more used to it, she held the phones for them and provided light for them to work by. What struck her was the change in Aram. As soon as he'd picked up the scalpel, his entire demeanor had altered. Calming down and showing confidence normally reserved for war room briefings, he now handled the surgical instruments. And she had to hand it to Shanks. He was an amazing teacher and mentor, keeping Aram on track.

"Doing great, Aram. Okay, carefully now, here's the last blood vessel, then we can remove this thing. Keep going…" Shanks encouraged as Aram clamped, cut, and then tied off the blood vessels.

Aram tried not to think about the big picture and concentrated on just getting that virus off the hard drive. It was a stupid analogy, no doubt about it. But he ran with it. And with the same skill he used on a keyboard, playing his computer like a musical instrument, he cut and tied off blood vessels until the appendix was free.

"Well done, my friend," Liz told him, holding the light one handed and now reading Ressler's heart rate. Still the same.

Shanks asked for the two large clamps. And clamping off the very base of the appendix, he then instructed Aram to clamp right above that one. "Now we can remove it, so get the scalpel and cut right between the two clamps."

Aram did as he was asked, guiding the scalpel between the clamps and concentrating hard. As he cut through and the appendix came loose, he gazed at it in amazement. He'd removed the virus and the hard drive was clean. Or more accurately - he had just removed his colleague's appendix. His relationship with Agent Ressler was forever altered.

"Excellent, Aram. Now get that stronger thread and tie off below the clamp, really tight there…" Shanks instructed, encouraging the agent every step of the way. "Make sure it's tight… there we go…and a second one to hold it secure."

As Liz concentrated on the small square of flesh as Aram worked on her partner, the same feeling stole over her also. The work area ceased to be Ressler. Ceased to be her strong, confident partner - who had kissed her in a manner so unlike him as he'd gone under. It was just a small square of flesh surrounded by green drapes. They could do this for him. And had done it – his appendix was no longer part of him.

"Excellent. Now we need to start closing him up," Shanks told him, asking for his vitals again. Beside them, Liz provided them light to work by, now slightly in awe of the computer tech.

Taking his vitals again, she immediately noticed the change. "Oh, my gosh. His blood pressure and heart rate have both increased," she told the medic, looking worriedly at her partner.

Shanks looked straight at Ressler, leaving Aram's side and going to the agent, gently opening one eye with his clean gloved hand. "Damn…" he whispered. "Aram, I don't mean to rush you, because you're doing an awesome job here, but our patient is starting to wake up."

###

As well as Aram had handled the clamps and scalpel, he discovered he wasn't that good at needlepoint. The round needles were giving him a hard time and his stitches were large. And time was of the essence.

"Settle…let me pull up the needle with the clamp. You just concentrate on taking that little stitch there," Shanks told him.

Liz turned and looked at her sleeping partner. Head still tilted where Broken Nose had rammed the gun barrel into him, she gently moved his head back.

"Can he feel this?" she asked Shanks, almost dreading the answer.

"Yes and no. There is some level of pain reception, but certainly not like it would feel if he were wide awake."

"Oh, no," Aram told them, getting flustered now. "I'm trying."

"I know. 'Careful but quick' is the name of the game here," Shanks encouraged, stealing another look back up at Ressler's face.

As the first layer was closed, Aram exhaled and looked to Shanks. "Keep going," he told Aram as they moved the retractors up. Now he set about sewing the muscles together with small, strong stitches, immediately feeling the difference in the stronger flesh. But each stitch also took longer with the stronger muscle.

"Trust Agent Ressler to have a six-pack like this to get through," Aram said softly, concentrating on getting through the muscle layer.

"His heart rate just spiked!" Liz told them, listening through the stethoscope and leaning close to her partner. As she looked worriedly into his face she half expected his eyes to open.

"Liz, keep the light here," Shanks told her, his voice taut.

"What if he wakes up before we're done?" she asked, trying not to imagine the worse.

"Let's try to avoid that," he told her, meeting her eyes over her partner before returning back to Aram and assisting him with the closure. "Your partner must have a very high tolerance to anesthetic," he added.

She hadn't even given it a thought until now. "Oh, my…"

"Doing great," said Shanks moving the retractors up again as Aram finished stitching the first muscle layer. Positioning the needle for the first stitch on the next layer, Aram suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked, needing him to work quickly. There was no time to stop.

"If…if he does wake up while I'm stitching him closed…I'd be hurting him," he told her, looking at her, his eyes wide.

"And you will cause him a whole lot more pain if you don't MOVE IT," Shanks told him firmly.

"Oh, God," he whispered, and forced himself to start the next row of stitches, moving through the dark pink muscle layer and taking one stitch at a time.

"His heart rate is still increasing," Liz told them, dividing her attention between Aram and her partner, trying to keep the phone light in place.

Ressler's head moved a little.

"Oh God!" cried Liz, putting her other hand to his chest immediately.

"Stay asleep a bit longer, Ress, please," she begged him. "Aram! Hurry!" she told him. He didn't look up, just kept on taking one stitch after another.

"Almost there," Shanks told Aram, as he set about closing the yellow fatty later. Again he noticed the difference in the feel of the flesh, while still trying to think of nothing else beyond taking one small strong stitch at a time. "Come on, come on, come on…" he whispered, urging himself on.

A small gasp came from Ressler.

"No, no, no…" Liz heard the thump of his heart in her ears reach a new level. Thrusting the phone to Shanks she was beside her partner now, seeing movement under his eyelids.

Aram finally reached the skin layer. Breathing rapidly, he stood still as Shanks pulled the retractors away and smoothed the incision back together. "Okay, individual stitches and tie each one off about a quarter of an inch apart," he told him as he lit up the area. He didn't need to add 'and hurry'.

Underneath Aram's needle, Ressler's stomach quivered.

"Oh, God! He's waking up!" panted Aram, looking quickly up at Shanks.

"Do it," Shanks ordered him. "NOW."

Aram obeyed, wiping sweat from his eyes with his sleeve before placing the needle back into the flesh and making the next stitch.

Ressler's eyes opened.

"No!" Liz gasped, leaning over him.

Unable to focus, Ressler panted as the pain hit him.

"Ress, I'm right here," Liz told him, in his face. "We're almost done."

He couldn't speak to her and as his heart rate thundered in her ears, he gasped again.

"Aram!" she called out, glancing back to the two men. Hunched over Ressler's belly, they didn't look up or reply.

Ressler's eyes found hers and held onto them as she stroked his hair. "I know, I know… you don't know what's going on…"

From behind Ressler, she suddenly heard a groan as Red started to wake up. She couldn't even think about him right now.

"Almost there. You almost got it, Aram."

She half heard Shanks as Ressler grunted in pain, moving his head more.

Underneath Aram, Ressler's belly flinched. "Oh God!" he said, almost jumping back.

"Finish it!" Shanks told him firmly.

"Okay, okay," Aram replied, taking another stitch. He was almost done. Just two more stitches and he'd be finished. But it wasn't like before. Now Agent Ressler was moving under him as he stitched his flesh, piercing it with his small needle.

A silent tear escaped Ressler's eye and rolled gently down his face. And leaning to him, her own eyes shining with tears, Liz brushed it away with her thumb as she held his head gently in her hands.

"I'm here, we're almost done," she told him, inches from his face.

And under her hands, he was back in a box. With a criminal standing over him holding his head in exactly the same manner. Telling him he was useless to him if he didn't act now.

He found his voice, pulling it up from the closed recesses of his throat. "…li..z…"

She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks now, still above him. "I'm right here…"

"Oh my God, I'm done!"

From behind her she heard Aram and glanced back to see him staring wide eyed at the closed incision.

Shanks retrieved the gauze and dressing from the supplies, moving back quickly to lay them on the green drapes. "We need to dress the wound too," he told his pseudo intern, placing the sterile dry gauze along the stitch line. Handing the tape to Aram, he had him tape it down securely.

"Now you're done," he told Aram and allowed a smile.

"We're all done Ress," she told her partner, as his sleepy eyes blinked slowly. Now cupping just one cheek, she reached for the wet cloth and wiped his face. "We're all done," she told him,

Shanks came up to him and leaned down to their patient. "Hey there, I'll put some morphine in your IV for you. You look like you could do with it," offered Shanks, reaching for his kit.

Ressler's eyes opened wider, looking at Liz, shaking his head very slowly. "…no…"

She put her hand out to stop Shanks. "He doesn't want it."

"He needs it."

"He said no."

As the medic acquiesced and took the morphine away, Ressler gasped again, trying to focus on what was happening.

Liz turned back to him, her hand now on her partner's forehead, noticing that his fever was already dropping. "We got it Ress…we removed it."

From the floor Red groaned again, moving a little and attempting to get up. And Aram, who had just performed a surgery and could now take on anything – even Raymond Reddington - left Ressler's side and dropped down to the criminal.

"Perfect timing, Mr Reddington," said Aram, "you slept through all the fun," he added, then looked up at Liz, her cheeks still wet with tears. "I didn't mean it was actually 'fun'," he said quietly.

"I know," she told him, her hand still on Ressler's forehead. He was drifting off. Unable to stay awake with the residue of the anesthetic still in his system.

"You did awesome, both of you," Shanks told them, shaking his head. Never had he seen such a surgery, and he'd seen some crazy stuff with the Coast Guard.

From the floor, Red was mumbling. "Get me up… get me off this floor…" Reaching for him, Aram carefully helped him up and over to the couch. Leaning back, hand to his bleeding forehead he was sure there was the imprint of an assault rifle etched into his skin. Red tried to focus his eyes on them. "You just got done?" he asked as his voice became a little more coherent.

"Hell, yes! We've got some partying to do!" grinned Aram, and then looked at Red. "Um, I mean, yes we did." But his grin couldn't help but spring forth and unable to contain himself he looked across to Liz who now smiled at him.

Red smiled, despite the pain in his head. "Excellent. And when this fairy elephant stops doing the rumba in my skull you can explain to me just how you achieved that. But for now, how's he doing?" he asked, still laying back on the couch.

"His heart rate is high, but that will come down as he gets more fluids into him," Shanks replied, removing the stethoscope from his ears, "and after he recovers from waking up during that…" he added, looking at the sleeping agent. Finding a light blanket, Shanks placed it over Ressler and with Liz's assistance, they then removed the green drapes from under it to let their patient rest.

Shanks then turned his attention to Red. "Let me look at you though. That was a nasty blow you took."

"Oh, I'm fine," Red told the medic who was now completely ignoring him and placing gauze on Red's bleeding forehead. "Hold that," he told Red, then got his small flashlight and shone it in Red's eyes.

"Thank you so much for providing a spotlight for the elephant to do her solo," said Red and closed his eyes as he held the gauze to his pounding head.

###

Almost an hour later Ressler stirred again, moving his head a little as his eyes fluttered. Slowly opening his eyes he found Liz still at his side, her blue eyes just as he'd remembered them as he had drifted off. And how they looked at him when he woke up earlier. The memory was vague. But he had woken up before they got done, that much was clear.

"Hey, welcome back…" she told him softly as he shut his eyes again, gasping as a surge of incision pain hit him.

Shanks looked toward her, with an 'I told you' look in his eyes. She ignored it. She knew her partner far better than the medic.

Red filled his view, leaning over him and patting his chest. He was feeling better, the fairy elephant having left for more dance lessons. "Donald, my friend. You are now short one horribly inflamed appendix, thanks to a mammoth team effort," Red smiled at him.

"Thank you…" he whispered again. As Red moved back, Aram replaced him.

"Agent Ressler, glad to see you up and about. I mean. Awake. Um. Again," he said, looking down at their groggy companion. He might have just removed his colleague's appendix, but he was apparently still afflicted with foot-in-mouth disease when it came to actually communicating with him.

"…raring to go…" Ressler told them, now looking at the roof of the cave above him, softly lit in the shadows. He was drifting off again, still unable to stay awake long. "…still in the Bat Cave, I see…" he said softly, before falling asleep.

###

Forty minutes later, Red sat up on the couch as they ate a rudimentary meal from Conrad's supplies. "Unbelievable," he said, standing up. "He's right," he said, walking toward the backpack lying on the floor to retrieve the large flashlight.

"What?" Aram asked, turning from the small table where he was currently mourning the loss of the burnt out computers, as if by his very presence he could breathe new life into them. "Who's right?"

"And about what?" added Liz, watching him come back into the lit area.

"Donald. And his Bat Cave," he told them. "When Conrad and I were walking through the tunnels yesterday, we passed a small cave. Not unlike this one and maybe half the size. I shone the flashlight in as we walked by and saw fresh bat droppings on the ground."

Still sitting in her chair beside her sleeping partner, Liz wrinkled up her nose at the thought of that as she put her fork down on her plate. "Okay…"

Red continued, "Bats are creatures of habit. And truthfully, quite undeserving of the bad rap they get. But, in their simple lives they eat each night. Roost during the day. Make baby bats. And then eat again the next night-"

"Oh!" Aram stood up. "With the tunnels blocked how are the bats getting in and out to hunt?!"

Red smiled at Aram, tilting his head as he saw the cogs turning in the agents head.

"There's another way out?" Looking from one to the other, Liz stood up by Ressler. "But bats are tiny. Where they get out, we couldn't fit..."

"No, we couldn't-"

Shanks completed the sentence for Red, grabbing the two-way radio that had been enclosed with the medical supplies. "Not unless someone found their opening and enlarged it," he said, pressing the call button. "Evans, how are you guys progressing on the cave in?" he asked.

The squelch came back on the two-way as Evans replied, his frustration apparent. "Slowly. It's like pulling teeth out here, but hey, at least the rain has stopped for now. We're still looking at another day I'd say. How's our patient?"

"Patient is doing well and recovering now," Shanks told him. "We may have a Plan B to get out of here. Actually, Plan C. There is another cavern down here that we think must have a small opening to the outside. Do you still have that big drill on site?" Shanks asked, looking hopefully up at the small group now surrounding him.

"We do. I see where you're going. Where's this cavern?" Evans replied, his voice sounding more positive now.

Shanks pressed the mic again. "It's almost sundown, right? The day and night don't mean much down here. But I need you and a couple of guys to come up off the beach and into the forest, and watch for a small colony of bats flying out to do their nightly hunt. Look at where they came from and see if it's possible to drill through there."

"I'm on it! I'll get back to you if and when we see these bats of yours!" Evans replied, as they heard him calling out to Deeks before he let go of the mic.

As Shanks dropped the two-way to one of his vest pockets, he turned to Red. "Score one for Batman."

"So we might get out of here earlier than we thought. And after we get Donald off to the hospital to keep the medical community gainfully employed again, we need to find Conrad," Red told them, already thinking ahead.

They all looked toward the exit tunnel. Sitting dark at the back of the cave, it had almost been forgotten as they'd finished the surgery. But now, the memory of the wet-suited gunmen came back to them.

"We need to ascertain where they took him," Red said quietly, turning back to the group.

"That creepy sanatorium would be my guess," said Aram, shuddering. "That place was uber strange."

"Why did they take him? What on earth do they want him for so badly?" asked Liz, leaning forward on her elbows beside Ressler.

"He has information that they'd rather not be in anyone's possession but theirs. And I can guarantee you they will not be asking him nicely and serving him afternoon tea in their quest to obtain it," Red explained.

"And when they get it, he will be of no use to them and he will be gone. Dead for real this time," he finished, turning the flashlight on and aiming it to the tunnel.

Shanks stood across from him, "Well, I don't know much about this secret spy stuff, but let's go find this bat cave, shall we?"

"What if those men come back?" asked Aram "we shouldn't all go and leave Liz and Agent Ressler alone, right?"

"Those men got what they came for," Red told him, giving Liz a small smile. "They won't be back."

Aram left the computer desk, coming to join the two men. "Okay, well in that case, Holy Escape Plan!" he grinned, as Red gave him a patient look. "Too much?"

Chuckling, Red hoisted the backpack as they headed for the exit tunnel. "Let's go find them. Lizzie, take care of our patient," Red called out to her as the three men left, the flashlight illuminating their path as Liz sat back down, her eyes resting on her partner. And still fast asleep with the after effects of the anesthetic in his system, Ressler was completely unaware he may have just found them a quicker way out.

###

Leaving the cave, the three men headed down the tunnels, walking silently as if afraid to bring notice to their presence. The flashlight shone ahead of them, illuminating the tunnel walls and support beams. Whoever had carved these tunnels out of the limestone had spent a lot of time and effort. Such was the importance of hiding their ill-gotten moonshine produce. At length they came to an offshoot tunnel running parallel with the flooded tunnel.

"Not this one, it's the next one on the right," he told them and kept on walking.

"It's… kinda creepy down here…" Aram said quietly, as he peered ahead in the beam of light. "I'll be glad to see the light of day again. Or the dark of night," he said, mostly to himself as the other two kept on walking beside him. "Those would make great song lyrics."

"There it is," said Red as they approached another tunnel running away to their left. "It's a little way down there. I'm not sure how far we've come. Maybe quarter of a mile if you want to let your associates aware of that," he told Shanks who reached for his two-way.

In the quiet tunnels, the radio sounded harsh breaking through the silence. "Yeah, we're out here. Got three of us watching for these little suckers. No pun intended," came back Evans on the radio.

"We're almost at the cave so we'll be able to tell you when they take flight and head up," Red told him as Shanks held the radio close to him, pressing the mic down.

"I can smell it…I think," said Aram, and he was right. From ahead came the faint odor of the bat droppings, out of place in the dry tunnels.

As they walked closer, Red's flashlight picked up the entrance to the cave ahead, a large ragged opening interrupting the smoother line of the man-made tunnels.

"If we shine the flashlight on them it will disturb them, right?" asked Aram quietly.

"Yes, but the oil lamp here should be okay," Red told him as they reached the cave. Lighting the oil lamp he placed it on the tunnel floor outside the cave and turned the flashlight off. From inside the cave came small squeaks and the shuffling of wings high above them.

"I don't see any daylight filtering in," Shanks whispered, not wanting to disturb the colony.

"If it's not a direct path, we wouldn't though," Red offered, keeping his voice low.

In the glow and shadows produced by the oil lamp the roof above them was completely dark. Covered in hanging bats, they completely hid the beige sandstone of the cave.

"About how many would that be?" asked Aram quietly gazing up at the colony as they moved continually against the ceiling.

"Few thousand…" whispered Shanks. "I've seen them over the water in the bay. Never knew this was where they came from."

And as they spoke in hushed tones the squeaking and activity intensified as several bats dropped from the roof and swooped down, circling the cave.

###

In the main cave, Liz sat beside her partner as he began to wake up again. "Hey, you gonna sleep the whole day away?" she smiled as he opened his eyes again, turning his head a little to look at her.

Much more alert now, he looked up at her. "Thought I might…" Turning his head he viewed the quiet cave. "Where is everyone?"

"Would you believe they've gone bat hunting?" she told him, smiling at his look as he turned back to her.

"I see… Why?"

She filled him in as he chuckled at that, "Knew it all along." He stretched out his back a little, wincing at the pain that brought to his incision. "I need to sit up. This cot is killing my back."

She helped him up, and as he sat grimacing in pain as it put pressure on his incision, he pulled the blanket around his waist. "Guess I should really put some clothes on, right?"

She stood by him, her hand on his shoulder and didn't reply to his comment. "Ress, something happened during your surgery. Actually, several things happened. But the main one is that they came in and took Conrad at gunpoint," she told him as he looked at her sharply.

"Damn."

She saw the cogs turning, waiting for it. And there it was.

"Oh, let me guess, Doctor Red finally got to do it all himself."

"Well, not quite." She was smiling, tilting her head wondering just how he'd take the news. "He got knocked out during the big 'Conrad taking episode'. So we roped in a substitute."

Recalling her hands on his face as he'd woken too early, that only left one person. "Aram…"

"Yup, our illustrious computer geek stepped in," she said, watching him raise his eyebrows at that.

"And he didn't even have an umbrella…"

###

"Here we go…" said Red as Shanks lifted his two way radio. The air took on a new sound as a few bats left their roosts on the ceiling of the cave, the fluttering of their wings increasing. And as one, in an unspoken command the bats took flight. The air was filled with the beating of wings and a high a pitched whistling as the small mammals swooped and soared, circling their cave.

"Wow…" breathed Aram, the smell forgotten momentarily as he peered into the cave in awe. He felt like Bruce Wayne on discovering his cave below his estate. "That. Is. Awesome…"

"Why aren't they flying out?" Shanks asked no one in particular as the bats continued to circle.

"Because they can't! Move aside!" Red hissed, as they scrambled a few steps back toward the way they'd come from the tunnel

Immediately the bats changed course and swooped from their cave and out the entrance they had just been standing in. The flapping wings of several hundred bats passed them, their high pitched whistles almost deafening the three men.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Aram, ducking as more bats followed the first group.

The bats were flying down the tunnel away from them.

"Follow them!" called Red, picking up the oil lamp now, not wanting to shine the bright flashlight on the bats. They ran, crouching down as hundreds of bats flew overhead, their hands over their heads in an instinctive protective stance.

"Their exit better not be past that old cave-in," Red puffed, running with the two men.

"Evans, they're flying. Can you see them?" Shanks radioed, trying to keep pace with the other two as he juggled his radio one handed.

"We can! Wow!"

"Yes!" said Aram as they heard Evans on the outside. The bats fluttered above them, so many that they formed a dense cloud of living, breathing creatures. Their exit was not beyond the old cave-in as Red had feared. Instead, the bats entered a small alcove in the tunnel about 10 feet in front of them.

They stopped, standing beyond the alcove now and looking back to the bats spiraling wildly upward above them, before disappearing through the as yet unseen opening.

"That's not a cave. That's a walk-in closet," said Aram as Red walked by him, peering up as best he could. He could barely make out a sliver of light as the small opening was almost obliterated by the flying throng exiting the cave.

"Amazing," said Shanks softly as Aram nodded beside him.

"Absolutely. And noisy," Aram added.

It took a few minutes for the majority of the colony to exit the cave. As most of them left on their nightly hunt of insects, the numbers remaining inside dwindled, leaving only a few bats circling in the air.

"Evans, have you pinpointed their exit from up there?" Shanks asked, releasing the mic button to await the reply.

There was no sound on the radio. Instead, a bright beam of light shone down from the roof above, forming a circle of light in front of them on the tunnel floor. Evans was peering in from about 20 feet above them through a small opening of perhaps 18 inches wide.

"Someone call for a cab?"


	11. Recovery

Liz was watching her partner and seeing him in a new light – literally. Blanket around him, he sat on the narrow cot, bare chested. IV's in hands that rested in his lap as he sat quietly, eyes downcast. In thought perhaps; in pain, most definitely; and yet he was calm. Lit in the glow of the oil lamps in the dimly lit cave she smiled inwardly. Barely the hint of it reached her lips. He wasn't the same man she'd met two years ago. Gone was the almost constant mistrust of her. Gone was the scowl and clench of his jaw that hid barely suppressed anger. Gone was the haunted soul she'd found in Sitka. He had sat beside her then with a blanket around him. But not like this.

Her eyes found the soft ginger eyelashes of her partner; catching the soft light, their color lighter than the hair on his head. Hair that was spiky, half drying now as his fever began to abate. Wandering, her eyes dropped to his chest finding herself inevitably drawn to his right shoulder. The bullet wound was long since healed. Years earlier his shoulder had been ripped open, leaving this stark reminder in its wake.

His eyes slowly lifted to find her looking at him. As he met her gaze, his eyes blue in the soft glow of the oil lamps, his lips parted slightly. And in that moment, she knew what Audrey had seen often. While clearly in pain from the surgery he was calm and comfortable in her presence. Clad only in a blanket, naked under it, yet more complete than she had ever seen him.

She smiled, letting the small inward smile find her lips now. "You okay?" she asked him softly, almost whispering in the silence of the cave.

"Yeah… You?" he asked her, voice low.

She smiled, turning more to face him as she winced at the pain that flared across her back. Head tilted, he regarded her now, seeing the bruises and scrapes clearly on her face in the low, flickering light. As his hand rose to her face she didn't move, feeling his fingers moving her hair gently aside to reveal a large, deep scrape above her right eye. Beside him, his other hand found the wet cloth and lifting it to her face he placed it gently on her forehead. Eyes closing as he gently dabbed at the scrape, she dropped her head imperceptibly, leaning into his gentle touch despite the pain he was bringing to the wound. And gently wiping the dried blood away as he cleaned the wound, his fingers lightly held her hair back as he worked.

Once clean, he reached into Shank's medical supplies beside them on the small table before lightly pressing gauze to her forehead. Silently and gently he dressed the wound, taping the gauze in place. And as she lifted her head and opened her eyes, his fingers were on her hair again, gently laying it over the gauze. His fingers dropped, finding her chin and turning her head slightly to the left. Finding a large scrape on her jaw line, he again proceeded to wipe it gently with the wet cloth.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you," she smiled, and he stopped wiping her jaw, lowering his hand.

"Who says you aren't?" he asked, a small smile on his lips as he found another scrape and gently began to wipe it clean for her.

Her eyes settled on his shoulder wound again, lingering on the circular scar. "What happened there? Who shot you?'

He glanced at his bare shoulder, at the jagged round scar before gently moving her chin to the right now as he checked the rest of the scrapes on her face. Finding another deeper one, he wrung out the cloth in the water bowl and again softly wiped it down as he spoke.

"I'm not sure if it was Red who fired or Dembe," he answered distractedly.

"Did you ever ask them?" she asked, glancing at him.

Raising his eyes briefly to meet hers, before dropping them down to continue cleaning her chin, he smiled briefly. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's ancient history."

"I guess so," she agreed, as he lay the wet cloth down again.

"Turn around a little," he asked her softly as he found a large, deep scrape and cut on her left shoulder, visible under her blouse. Turning, she faced away from him slightly as he checked the wound.

As he began to work on cleaning it, her blouse clearly in the way, she unbuttoned and dropped her blouse off her shoulder. And as he cleaned the large wound on her upper arm and the back of her shoulder, he lifted her bra strap to gently wipe under it. His fingers soft as he wiped the dirt from the wound, he stopped again to wring out the wet cloth before resuming the task of cleaning the blood gently away. Neither spoke for the moment. Liz, with head lowered as her partner took care of her injuries and Ressler concentrating on the task at hand. Again she smiled and stole a look at him in the soft light, catching his chest and upper arms in her view. How did he hide all that under his suit and tie, she wondered.

Reaching for the gauze and tape again, he dressed the wound carefully, taping the gauze in place. And in an unspoken request and returned trust, she lowered her blouse completely and let him check her back.

"It looks bad, Liz," he said softly as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. "Covered in red and black bruises," he told her, softly running his fingers over her back, his IV tubing hanging down loosely between them. Finding a deep cut where something sharp had pierced her through her clothing, he began to clean the puncture wound.

Returning to their conversation, her head still looking over her shoulder to him, she spoke again. "So it was while hunting for Red that you got shot."

"Yes."

"And here we are, and he's…well, I'm not sure what he is, but he's not your enemy anymore, is he?" she asked, watching as his eyes glanced up at her before resuming.

"No, he isn't," he answered, reaching for the antiseptic cream in Shank's kit. "This might sting…"

Hissing in a sharp breath, she nodded.

"Sorry," he told her, placing gauze over the puncture wound and taping it in place. Fingers against her back and holding her hair out of the way he again felt the bruises, checking for any more wounds. Satisfied, he leaned up a little and glanced at her as she turned to face him. Her blouse still down, revealing the soft swell under her lace bra.

"There's a cut… here," she said, her hand on her waist on the left side. But he'd already seen it, and wet cloth in hand began to clean it for her as she moved her blouse further out the way. His hands right below her bra clad breast, he worked gently, head lowered as he cleaned the dirt from the deep scrape and cut. As he reached for the antiseptic cream again, she asked him another question.

"What if you ever had to hunt Red again?" she asked softly, her eyes on his hair as his hands brushed her waist.

"I don't think that's likely to happen, Liz."

"Probably not, but if it did, that would be…difficult," she said as his eyes rose to meet hers.

Eyebrows raised, he looked away momentarily, "I'd have to do my job and hunt him," he said, before his hand settled on her waist over the wound. "But yes, it would be difficult." He licked his bottom lip, before looking up at her, "And for you too. You'd have to hunt him with me."

She hadn't thought about that. "That would be…interesting, to say the least," she said quietly as he finished dressing the wound at her waist.

"Yeah, but that's not gonna happen," he said, putting the tape down again as she drew her blouse back up, reaching for the buttons at the front. Seeing her scraped right hand before him, he took her hand in his, head lowered and began to clean it with the wash cloth, revealing raw, bruised knuckles. "Because, believe me, nothing will make him run from you, Liz," he said, gently cleaning her hand.

She smiled in agreement as her partner continued to clean and dress her hand, before turning it over and looking at her palm. "You have tiny hands," he told her, glancing up at her.

"Perhaps you just have large hands," she smiled, gently flipping their hands over while being careful of his IV. And now holding his hand she met his eyes as they looked at her steadily in the soft light.

And as he was about to say something, her phone rang. Gently releasing his hand, she took her phone from her jeans pocket and looked at the caller ID.

"Hey, Aram," she answered as she found her partners eyes again. "How's the bat hunting going?"

###

The bats had all but disappeared around them, having been driven off by the activity above their temporary escape hatch. Hanging up from Liz, Aram walked back down the tunnel as the sound of the drill grew louder. The sun had set but light shone down from the floodlights above, illuminating the sandy tunnel floor and the growing pile of small rocks. As rocks and chunks of limestone rained down below, Shanks and Red were standing well back in the tunnel, letting Evans and the guys work above them.

"Did you tell her we'll be ready to get out of here in a couple of hours?" Red asked Aram as he came back into view.

"Yes indeed, I told her some big burly rescue guys will be there to bring them both up here on stretchers," he told Red, leaning forward to try and see the progress, yet unable to see anything as far back as they were. "Um, I don't think Agent Ressler liked that part," he added.

"Oh, of course not. Donald never likes to think of himself as a patient," chuckled Red. "Perhaps he should have picked a safer profession."

A large rock dropped down the alcove, hitting the walls and smashing into smaller rocks below and scattering them. "Look out below!" yelled Evans, way too late. From above they heard laughter. They knew the three men in the tunnel were well back.

Shanks was on the radio. "How big an opening are you planning on making up there?" he asked, as they sat down against the walls of the tunnel further down toward to the old cave-in.

The radio squawked as Evan's replied. "Big enough to get the bosun's chair down safely. We're going well though. Should be through in an hour or so then we just need to set up the tripod above the hole."

As Shanks replied, Aram picked up his phone to text Samar again to fill her in on their progress. And wandering off down the tunnel again, they didn't seem nearly as creepy now that bright floodlights were shining down from above and rescue was just a few feet away from him.

###

As Liz got off the phone, Ressler shook his head. "So they're going to stretcher us out of here," he said, looking toward the tunnel entrance.

Smiling at his aversion to that thought, she slipped her phone back in her pocket. "In a couple of hours, yeah."

He looked back to her, then down to his blanket. "Well, it will probably take me that long to get dressed anyway," he mused.

Easing off the cot, Liz rounded up his clothes and sat them next to him. "If you need help, just ask," she told him, and he met her eyes.

"Thanks."

"I'll be over here if you need me," she told him and slowly made her way over to the small table and chairs, where she began to look at more of Conrad's drawings.

Behind her, Ressler dropped his blanket and began to slowly dress. Bending down was almost impossible. But through sheer stubbornness and more than a little wriggling and shuffling around, he did get his underwear and jeans back on. Sitting on the cot with belt hanging unbuckled around his waist, he breathed hard. The movement had woken up the pain in his incision and a wave of nausea swept over him.

"Liz. Bowl," was all he got out as he sat swallowing hard and willing himself not to throw up with fresh stitches in his belly.

Beside him again, her hand rested on his shoulder as she held the bowl to him. And leaning into him her hand rubbed his bare back as he fought not to throw up.

"It's okay," she told him, sitting beside her partner as he shuddered beside her. Slowly his breathing recovered and he set the bowl on the other side of him, averting the vomiting, but closing his eyes against the pain.

"Why don't you lay down for a bit?" she asked as he nodded. And moving the bowl, she gently helped him lie down as he gasped in pain, before laying the blanket back over him. Resuming her place at his side, she sat on her chair and leaned close.

"Perhaps Shanks has some pain meds that aren't...bad for you," she said, and he shook his head.

"I'll be okay," he said, turning his head on the pillow to meet her eyes, finding her smiling.

"What?" he asked.

"I think that's the first time you haven't said 'I'm fine'," she smiled at him. "Well done, partner."

"I'm also fine," he added, smiling at her as she laughed and shook her head at him.

She moved to pick up his socks and boots, and knowing he couldn't bend down far enough to manage that she held them up in question. He nodded to her, and moving the blanket up she set about putting his socks and boots back on his feet.

And as he lay there as she tied his shoelaces, he realized that if he had to be recovering from surgery he was glad it was with Liz around.

###

Above the tunnel, the drill had been moved back out of the way. Venturing forward and standing cautiously under the opening, Aram and Red rolled back the stones and rocks, leaving a cleared floor for the chair to descend to. Looking upward into the bright lights, the opening in the cave ceiling was now about 4 feet wide. Evans and Deeks were visible working to secure the large tripod and winch, ready to lower the bosun's chair into the opening. Aram caught Red looking at his watch for the second time in a few minutes.

"Um, do you need to be somewhere, Mr Reddington?"

"Yes and no. I am concerned for the safety of Conrad and the longer we delay down here the less chance we have of retrieving him back safely," he told Aram, resisting the urge to look yet again at his wrist watch.

Behind them Shank's radio squawked as Evan's voice came to them. "Okay, stand back, we're lowering the chair."

Moving back, the three stood as the chair was lowered down on the winch. Turning slowly as it came down, bearing a fireman sporting a Rockland Fire & EMS t-shirt, it soon came to a stop before them. Unbuckling himself from the chair, he stood back as it was hauled up to retrieve the next man.

"Hey, Adam Marcus, how you folks doing?" he asked Red and Aram, nodding in recognition to Shanks behind them. Introductions complete, he shone his flashlight up and down the tunnel. "Okay, so where are these two patients who need assistance?" he asked.

"You have a little walking to do first," said Red as they stood aside as the second fireman was being lowered. "And Aram here will show you the way. Won't you Agent Mojtabai?"

As the second fireman came to a stop near them, Red stepped forward. "Rick," said the fireman, extending his hand as Red shook it.

"Rick, I wonder if I might take the next chair up," Red asked, again looking at his watch. Rick agreed and strapped him into the chair, and as Aram turned around to talk to Red he saw him being lifted up out of the tunnel.

"Oh. Okay," said Aram, realizing he was the lead agent on scene again.

###

"Just sit still, I got this," Liz told her partner. Ressler was sitting up again and feeling a little more like himself now that the IV bags had emptied their contents into his veins. Ever the stubborn one, he'd been about to pull them himself when she'd gently held his hands and began to remove the first IV. As she removed the tubing and capped off the IV's, he looked down at her bending over his hand. He was quite capable of pulling an IV himself, but he let her do it. And smiling at her lowered head as she gently pulled the plastic tubing from his vein, he had to admit, she was doing it far more gently than he'd have done it.

With hands free of the IVs, he was able to finish getting dressed. Carefully pulling on his t-shirt, he then drew on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging loose over his jeans, covering his unbuckled belt. Now all he had to do was stand up.

Slipping her phone back in her pocket after reading a text, Liz looked up at him, "Aram said they're almost here. Ready?"

Beside him, her arm looped in his she helped ease him off the cot to a standing position. He wasn't sure who was leaning on whom, but so far so good.

"Okay?" she asked as he nodded.

"I'm great," he told her then took a step forward. And was still on his feet. Always a good thing, he thought. And once he started, he felt better. Taking slow steps and basically deciding to ignore the pulling on the stitches in his belly he walked to where the water was coming into the cave then pooling before it made its way to another chamber below their cave. Dipping his hands into the natural pool, it felt cool and inviting against the bruised backs of his hands. Taking the small metal cup nearby, he held the cup under the small stream of water and drank a couple of sips. It did nothing to appease the raging thirst he had, but he didn't trust his stomach to hold much more than that down.

"Conrad sure has a neat setup here," he told Liz, looking around them. As they stood together, voices came from the tunnel, before Aram entered the cave followed by Shanks and four firemen toting two stretchers.

"Cavalry's here," whispered Liz, as Ressler raised his eyebrows and looked dubiously at the firemen as they walked slowly over to greet them.

"Don, what are you doing up? You shouldn't be walking," admonished Shanks, coming to stand beside them, surprised to see their patient standing upright and dressed.

"Thought I'd get some stretching in before I went for a jog," he told the medic, as Liz couldn't help but chuckle beside him.

"Shanks, meet the stubborn side of my partner," she smiled as the medic just shook his head.

###

Back on the surface, having hastily met Evans and Deeks, Red took in his surroundings. Sparse trees ringed the small rocky outcrop they were on, before the trees thickened to the forest that surrounded the nearby Sanatorium. Barely visible in the moonlight, he could make out the top of the tall building through the trees. The trees around him were picking up a familiar light. The lighthouse, its steady rotation lighting up the night was visible from almost due north of him. Turning from the dark Sanatorium, he watched the lighthouse for a couple of rotations, surprised at how pleased he was to see it again.

Turning his attention from it, he began to walk carefully along the rocky ground, flashlight shining on the rocks and grass. Fresh with the smell of recent rains, he breathed in the night air, the breeze refreshing on his face after so long underground. Behind him, the remaining two firemen and the stretchers were being lowered to the tunnel. Stepping carefully, the rocky surface of the ground illuminated in the lighthouse beam and his flashlight, he found what he was looking for. Bending down, he studied the rocky outcrop before nodding in satisfaction. In the silence of the night, the only sound the distant waves on the rocks; he made his way back to the two Coast Guard men. Standing at the top of the hole they were talking together, their work done for the moment.

"Mr Evans, Mr Deeks. I wonder if you gentlemen would be so kind as to move your drill further down here for a few minutes," Red asked them congenially.

"Oh? What for? Don't tell me we have more trapped FBI agents?" Deeks asked, only half joking and looking worriedly in the direction of Red's flashlight illuminating a small, fresh rock fall.

"Not exactly," smiled Red, "But a little Quid Pro Quo is always good for the soul."

As Deeks and Evans shrugged and gathered up the drill, they made their way along the rocks. And as they did so, a sound reached him. The distant motor of a speed boat. Turning, Red listened and smiled. The two Coast Guard men heard it too.

"It's not one of ours," Evans said, looking at Deeks.

"No, it's mine," said Red, looking at his watch again. "And right on time," he told them, turning to the direction of the motor as it grew louder.

###

Ressler was arguing with the fireman. "I'm fine. I don't need to be carted out of here," he told the fireman who had introduced himself as Rusty.

"Sir, from what I understand, you had a field surgery four hours ago. If you were in hospital they'd insist you were wheeled from your room to the lobby in a wheelchair. It's not because you're incapable. It's because of liability issues. Same deal here. I need you to lie down on the stretcher so Mike and I can haul you out of here," Rusty explained patiently.

Liz smiled behind her partner. "Ress, we'll be here all night if you don't lay down for them, and I for one would like to get up on the surface," she told him.

He looked behind him to see her standing wearily. She was right. She needed to get out of here. "Okay, fine," he told the fireman who had the stretcher lying on the cot for ease of access. Stepping to it, Ressler eased himself down into it and allowed them to strap him onto it. Breathing hard, Shanks again offered him some pain medication.

"No, thanks," Ressler told him, closing his eyes against the pulling in his belly.

As Rusty and Mike lifted him, the other two firemen, Adam and Rick repeated the procedure for Liz. And with their two patients secured, they carried them on their stretchers from the cave and along the tunnels. Aram and Shanks led the way, shining a bright fireman's flashlight in front of them.

The smell announced the bat cave before they reached it and as they approached a few bats circled above them. Liz closed her eyes against them, while Ressler watched them and smiled. The little flying creatures had got them out of here.

Reaching the bosun's chair waiting for them in the tunnel, the firemen lowered the stretchers to the ground, then helped Ressler and Liz up. Panting in pain at the strain on his stomach, Ressler stood back, hands on his knees as he stood hunched over and let them strap Liz into the chair first.

Shanks leaned close to Ressler. "I understand. What was it? Oxy?" he asked, his voice low and out of earshot of the firemen.

Ressler slid his eyes sideways to the medic, thought briefly about denying it, then trusted Shanks and nodded.

Understanding, Shanks placed his hand on Ressler's shoulder. "How long has it been?"

"Five months," Ressler answered, swallowing hard against the pain.

"I can give you some Tramadol. It's not as strong as the opiates, but it will take the edge off for you while we get you out of here and on the Jawhawk when it lands," Shanks told him quietly.

"I'll think about it," Ressler told him, his breathing steadying as he stood more upright.

The chair was being lowered again as the four firemen stood around it. Understanding the agent's reluctance now, Shanks patted Ressler's shoulder then led him to the chair to be lifted to the surface.

"Come on, Don, let's get you out of here," he smiled.

###

Joining Liz and Red on the surface, Ressler now stood by the two of them breathing in the night air. After the dusty tunnels it was a welcome change. Like Red, he'd turned to the lighthouse and found a strange comfort in seeing its beacon shining in the night. Red turned to him, patting his shoulder.

"Looking good, Donald," he smiled.

Noticing the drill further down the rocky outcrop, Ressler turned to Evans in question.

"Oh, that was our good deed for the night. When this hole is sealed up for safety, our little flying friends will have their original cave access," he smiled, looking up from the winch as Aram came up to the surface.

Red was standing by Ressler when their attention was drawn to a flashlight coming through the trees to their right.

"Damn," said Ressler, instinctively reaching for his sidearm, but knowing it wasn't there.

"Oh, don't worry Donald. Trust me, they're the good guys," he told the agent then left his side to meet the two men running through the trees.

As the lighthouse beam came around again, illuminating the two men who were now leaving the cover of the trees, Ressler shook his head at the criminal as Liz came up beside him.

"Dembe!" she said, as they watched the dark man meet Red and hug him.

"Yup." Ressler turned to her. "NOW the cavalry is here," he told her, shaking his head at seeing Red's well oiled machine at work.

Aram was beside them now, watching the meeting of the three men in the moonlight. "I knew he was waiting for something," he smiled in satisfaction, "or someone, as it turns out."

Shanks came up to them now as the firemen came up from the opening one by one behind them. "Okay, the Jayhawk will be heading this way soon. The best place for it to land is up at the old hospital grounds, and it's also closer than the small beaches. So, that's where we need to head."

He looked at Ressler. "And we WILL be carrying you guys over there again, right?"

Ressler caught Liz's raised eyebrows at him, and turning to the medic he sighed, then put on his best fake smile for Liz's sake.

"Oh, absolutely."

###

"Gentlemen, our target is the old Sanatorium over there. I believe that is the best place to start looking for Conrad," Red told his employees. "We have the added advantage that the Cabal's attention will soon be distracted by our friends in the Coast Guard as their helicopter comes in to land."

Glancing behind them as the medic and firemen got Ressler and Liz back on their stretchers, Red turned back to his men. "Let's go," he said, taking the firearm that Dembe handed him. And taking off through the trees he now focused on the task ahead of him, knowing the FBI agents were in good hands.

Running through the trees in the moonlight, Red led the two men toward the Sanatorium that grew closer. The dark building stood imposing and still in the night air, blocking their view of the starlit sky behind it. The surrounding wall visible through the trees now, Red saw the opening off to their left and changing direction slightly, made a bee line for the gate.

Still closed, the three of them made short work of climbing over the metal gate, jumping down into the compound on the other side and crouching down on the ground. There was no sign of life or light from the building.

"Dembe, did you bring it?" Red asked his companion quietly, but Dembe was already reaching into his backpack. "Right here Raymond," he said, handing his boss a portable scanner.

"Good man," said Red softly, turning on the scanner and holding it up to the building before them. At first the screen showed nothing, only the grey outlines of the building. Moving it slowly along the length of the building before them, the image suddenly changed. The infra red receptors on the scanner picked up the temperature change, and showed a man shaped image visible in reds and yellows on the scanner screen.

"That looks like a guard," whispered Frank from behind Red, looking up at the building and ascertaining where the image was in the dark.

Red continued his infra red scan of the building, now coming across what he had hoped to see. The scanner showed a room with three occupants in it, and one sitting while the other two stood above him.

"There he is..." he said softly, as Dembe looked up, again judging where the room was in the building. On the second floor, the shuttered windows hid what was going on behind them. But they had the location now and turning off the scanner, Red stowed it in Dembe's backpack. Still crouched in the dark, the three men made their way along the wall, approaching the blacked out building.

"We need to be in position before that chopper gets here," Red told them, and picking up their pace they jogged along the wall, coming to a stop as close to the building as they could. Small windows at ground level caught his eye, as Red saw their previous accommodations. Conrad was not being held in the cells, but in an upper story room. Motioning with his fingers, Red gave the signal and the three of them ran to the building, coming to stand with their backs against the cold bricks. And edging their way along the outside of the building, they came to a doorway set back in the bricks.

"Now we wait," whispered Red, looking skyward.

###

Ressler and Liz were also approaching the old hospital, though at a far more sedate pace. On the stretcher, Ressler was feeling frustrated, to say the least. While certainly in pain, he'd been in pain for two days and felt he had functioned quite well under the circumstances. Lifting his head a little to see where they were going, tired of looking at the moonlit trees above his field of view, the brick walls of the old hospital were before them. Closer than he'd realized, he felt buoyed to know he'd be off this thing soon enough.

Two minutes later he was lowered to the ground by the firemen as they stood outside the wall. And as Mike ran to the gate to make short work of the gate padlock, Ressler unbuckled the strap and rolled to his knees on the ground before standing up slowly, using a small tree for support as he stood. Clutching the tree, he had a momentary feeling of déjà vu.

"You just couldn't wait, could you?" Liz said to him from her stretcher, still carried by Adam and Rick.

Stepping over to her stretcher he looked down at her, "Oh, you know me," he told her.

"Yes, I do," she told him, smiling despite herself, inwardly pleased to see him feeling better enough to be up and defying them.

Mike was motioning to them now as he swung one of the gates open. "Just in time," he called to them as in the distance the sound of a large Jayhawk helicopter reached them.

Moving through the gates, their large group settled against the inside of the walls to await the arrival of the helo. Ressler was walking slowly, but walking nonetheless, preferring that to being carted around.

Lights were visible through the tree tops as the helicopter approached. The large orange and white Coast Guard chopper coming into view completely now and hovering over the abandoned hospital, the downdraft hitting them as the engines roared overhead. The night air was suddenly lit up as the searchlight broke through the darkness, a beacon of light shining down on the green grass of the compound, illuminating the landing area as they hovered above it.

"Just wait! Wait for them to come to a complete stop!" called Shanks to them over the roar of the engines, shielding his eyes as grass and debris were whipped up around them.

###

"Now!" called Red to his men as the roar of the chopper filled the air. Aiming his assault rifle at the lock on the door before them, he fired. Obliterating the lock, they rammed into the door sending it flying open. Charging as one down the hallway they came across a stair case. As they made sure it was clear, they ran up the stairs, before turning toward the room they had seen on the scanner. Their way lit only by the filtered light reaching them from the helicopter as it roared on the other side of the building, they ran down the hallway. On the scanner, the room with the three men came into view and as Dembe pointed to it, they stopped, now standing outside the door in position.

Holding up a three count on his fingers as Dembe stowed the scanner again, Red counted down to two. Then dropped to one finger. And making a fist, the three men stormed into the room, finding it brightly lit after the dark hallway.

Momentarily blinded in the bright light, they came face to face with three gun wielding men. Two of them standing, and one in the chair.

It wasn't Conrad.

The broken nosed man sat in the chair, his weapon aimed at them.

As Dembe fired, his shot went wide, only grazing one of the standing men in the arm.

Rising quickly Broken Nose held his assault rifle to Dembe's head as another man disarmed him. The third man who had previously been standing guard came into the room behind them and fired at Frank, dropping him and leaving him writhing on the floor.

Cursing as blood poured from the gunshot wound in Frank's belly, Red held his weapon on Broken Nose, regarding him steadily. "Where is Conrad Lucas? What have you done with him?"

Broken Nose ignored the question,. "I suggest you lower your weapon, or I'll shoot this one too," he told him. "I don't need either of these two. You're the one I want."

"Really? And why is that?" asked Red. "You had me, remember? And you let me go."

"You fulfilled your purpose then. Now I have a new use for you. But if you don't lower your weapon, I'll shoot your man here," he told Red, pushing the barrel of his rifle into Dembe's forehead.


	12. Pursuit

Red looked into the man's eyes before him. He knew he had to lower his weapon. But if he was to gauge how far Broken Nose would go, he needed to test the waters. And nodding to himself, having seen more in the man now, he lowered his weapon.

"I may have lowered my weapon, but understand that I am not doing anything for you unless you let me get help for my man here. You have me. Now let my men go," he told their captor.

As his two men held their weapons on Red, Broken Nose lowered his weapon on Dembe. "Fine. Go get help from your Coast Guard buddies out there," he told Dembe, "But he will likely be dead long before they get here," he added, indicating Frank lying bleeding on the ground.

He turned back to Red noting the distaste. "And before you go judging me, I also have a job to do. Now move it, Reddington," he told Red, pushing him from the room, the three gunmen following him, as Dembe dropped to the floor beside his bleeding colleague.

###

The large orange and white helicopter touched down on the green lawn of the abandoned Sanatorium, the rotors slowing but not stopping. Waiting back by the wall beside Ressler and Aram, Liz felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. As she looked at the caller ID, she answered it with concern.

"Red?!" she called over the sound of the helicopter.

"Elizabeth. I need the Coast Guard medic." Dembe's calm voice came to her.

"Dembe?! Oh god, is it for Red?!" she asked, as Ressler leaned down to her, seeing her expression. "What happened?!" she asked Dembe over the sound of the helicopter, then listening to his reply. "Okay! The medic is right here with us!"

Shanks walked back to them from the helicopter. "Okay folks, time to go!" he told the agents, his voice raised over the roar of engines as their clothing and hair were whipped up in the draft from the waiting chopper.

Liz hurriedly passed on Dembe's message, staring wide eyed at her partner. Ressler turned to Shanks, holding his hand up against the debris, "Wait!" he yelled to the medic. "We can't leave!"

"What?!" Shanks looked at him, urging them forward to the waiting chopper. "What do you mean you can't leave? We need to get both of you out of here!"

Turning to the abandoned building and pointing, Ressler held the medic's arm, yelling over the chopper's engines. "They took Reddington! One of his men is down!"

Glancing at the building behind the chopper, Shanks digested that information. "Damn." Looking to the chopper to see the firemen standing near it, he then turned back to the agents. "The man who's down, where is he?" he yelled back at Ressler.

Ressler looked to Liz for that information, as she relayed it to the medic quickly before adding, "Dembe is with him and he will meet you at the top of the stairs!"

Nodding to them quickly, Shanks jogged to Rusty, yelling instructions to him and pointing to the building. As Rusty acknowledged the message and ran to the chopper, Shanks turned back to rejoin Liz and Ressler. "Rusty is a paramedic. He'll help your man!" He pointed his thumb back to the chopper, motioning again to the agents. "But now you both need to get on board!"

Ressler was shaking his head, "Reddington is a government asset! I can't leave here without him!" he shouted to the medic over the incessant roar of the waiting helo.

Shanks shook his head in frustration, needing them both to comply. "Damn it! We need to get her checked out for internal bleeding or organ damage!" he shouted, looking to Liz who was leaning wearily against the wall. "And I don't need to remind you that your belly was wide open just hours ago! You look like you're about to keel over!"

Ressler regarded the medic knowing he was absolutely right. His gut was on fire as his entire body silently quivered with the onslaught it had taken. And Liz needed to get checked out. But he couldn't leave right now. Sucking in a breath against the pain, he turned to Aram, "Take Liz! Get her out of here and safely to the hospital while I find Reddington!" he ordered the man.

And in his new found confidence that he had found buried beneath piles of numbers and red velvet cupcake recipes, Aram faced Ressler. "No sir! You just had surgery!" he shouted at him above the roar of the helo. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not leaving you here alone!" He stood his ground, facing Ressler as he shielded his eyes as the wind whipped around them.

Ressler glared at Aram, wondering why the hell he'd chosen this moment to grow a pair. And opening his mouth to say something he then changed his mind, instead leaning close to Liz, "Liz, you need to go. I'll go find Red and Conrad with Aram and Dembe," he told her as she shook her head.

"You can't do that, Ress! You may want to but Aram is right! You just had surgery!" she told him, standing back up from the wall.

Gritting his teeth, Ressler turned away from her as another wave of pain rippled through his gut. But he couldn't let Liz see that or she'd never leave without him. Looking to the waiting chopper and the darkened building, he caught sight of Rusty and another fireman running with first aid kit and stretcher, heading for the rear of the building. He knew what he was going to need. He stepped toward Shanks, who was now looking like he wanted to haul all three agents off in straight jackets.

"That medicine you said you had that was…safe. Give it to me," he told Shanks, looking at him determinedly, "because I need to be able to retrieve Reddington."

"That's not what I meant it should be used for!" Shanks told him firmly.

Ressler leaned closer to the medic, clutching his stomach as he did so. "I don't have time to argue with you."

Shanks shook his head, looking at the agent. "Okay, fine! I'll get the shot ready for you. But then I'm sticking right by your side. Deal?"

"What?!" Ressler exclaimed. "That's not-"

"It's the only condition I'm agreeing to this," Shanks told him, standing his ground. "You're still my patient! You want it? That's the condition!"

Ressler faced the medic, glowering at him. "Damn it! I don't need-"

"Ressler!"

Eyes shooting to Liz, he couldn't tell whether she wanted to thump him, or burst into tears. But at the look in her eyes, Ressler turned back to the medic. "Okay, fine!" he told Shanks through clenched teeth, furious that he needed a babysitter but relenting somewhat.

Turning back to Liz, his arm found her shoulder as he left Shanks and Aram and led her away from the wall. "I'll do as he says for now, but I need you to get on board and let them take you to the hospital, okay?" he told her, close to her ear, leading her slowly to the chopper now while trying not to stretch his belly too much.

"You need to come too!" she begged him, looking into his eyes, as her hair few around her face in the downdraft.

"You know why I can't!" he told her, yelling in her ear as they got closer to the engines of the waiting chopper. "You really think I can leave Aram here to do this? No way, Liz! I have to stay."

Looking into his eyes, she knew he was right. She also clearly saw the pain he was trying to mask, just as Shanks had. "Okay. But promise me you will let Aram and Dembe do the physical stuff, okay?! Promise me, Ress!"

"I will try," he told her, as he suddenly turned into her and held her close to him, mindful of his incision and belly pain, his mouth by her ear. "Just do this for me, please, Liz," he asked her, and in his ear he heard her tell him how stubborn he was. Of course he was. Pulling back from her she nodded to him, attempting to hold her hair in place, "You take care," she told him. "I wanna see you in one piece when this is done!"

They stood at the chopper door now and from inside, Rick jumped out and greeted them. "Here we go, ma'am," the fireman told her, then gently scooped her up, lifting her as easily as he would a child and gently handed her up to Adam who was also waiting on board.

"We got her, sir!" the fireman yelled, giving Ressler a thumbs up.

Liz looked at him as they sat her down, her eyes pleading with her partner. Nodding to her, he backed up as the deep burn in his belly grew. He seriously needed to lie down before he fell down. But there was no way he was letting her see that.

Still on the ground with rotors slowing now, the helo sat on the grass as Ressler stepped back further from it then turned and walked slowly back toward Shanks, trying not to hunch over too much. Or fall flat on his face. The medic had his kit opened, an injection at the ready in his good hand. Ressler approached slowly, panting with the pain, stomach on fire and wondering if he really could do this. But he needed to. And he was going to need a little help to do it. Taking off his jacket and pulling up his shirt sleeve, he silently exposed his upper arm for Shanks as Aram stood by.

"This will sting-" Shanks started to say, then stopped. The man had a fresh incision in his belly. He'd just had surgery and was walking around defying orders when he should be lying down on his way to a hospital. A shot in his arm was the least of his worries.

Rolling his shirt sleeve down after getting the shot, Ressler stumbled forward and leaned hard against the wall, sliding down it to find himself sitting on the grass. His face ashen in the glare of the helo lights, he leaned forward panting in pain, waiting for the medication to kick in. Shanks was in his face, leaning down to him.

"Far be it for me to tell a member of the FBI how to do their job. But you are one stubborn son of a bitch!"

Looking up, clutching his stomach and leaning his head back on the brick wall, Ressler faced the medic. "I do it well, though," he grimaced, gritting his teeth.

"That you do, sir," said Shanks, shaking his head as he hunched down beside Ressler to check his vitals.

"Says the medic who's been shot in the hand and is still out here doing HIS job," Ressler panted. Then immediately regretted the comment, knowing he was the reason the medic had stayed.

Shanks looked at him as he put his stethoscope in his ears. "I guess we're both stubborn."

Aram stepped back nervously, almost afraid the two men might come to blows.

"I'm fine," Ressler told him as the medic listened to his chest, now feeling the first warming through his system as the pain meds began to overtake his pain receptors. In a long remembered ritual, he both loved and loathed the feeling of the meds creeping through his system. But now was not the time to think too deeply on that.

"I'll be the judge of that," Shanks told him, listening to his heart and glancing up at his patient. Ressler looked away but sat silently as the medic checked him. His eyes landing on the waiting chopper that was still parked on the grass as it waited on the firemen. Ressler was more concerned he'd see Liz leave it if she saw the medic checking him for too long.

His breathing steadying as his pain dropped a notch, Ressler's attention was brought back to the medic over him who was now holding out his left arm. And reaching up and grasping the medic's offered arm, Ressler allowed Shanks to help him to his feet, then stood hunched over, hands on his knees as he thanked the man.

As Ressler drew himself up to a standing position, the two men stood together eyeing each other in mutual acquiescence, each suddenly breaking into a half smile and shaking their head at each other.

"Okay, let's do this," Ressler told Shanks.

Beside them both, Aram breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking to Aram, Ressler slapped him on the upper arm in that age old communication between men that spoke volumes. Aram was well aware he'd defied the lead agent's orders, the momentary buzz at doing that having quickly subsided. But that one gesture from Ressler helped alleviate his uneasiness.

On the grass, the helicopters rotors fired up again, gathering speed as the engines roared, whipping up debris around them again. Unsure if it was leaving without a dead patient or getting ready to receive a live one, Ressler drew his eyes from it and back to the two men with him.

"Let's roll," he shouted above the chopper and headed along the wall toward the building to look for Reddington and Conrad as Shanks and Aram followed.

###

Ressler's question was answered fairly quickly. As they came level with the building, Rusty and Mike were coming around the corner. As the two firemen walked briskly by with their patient between them on the stretcher, Ressler looked down to the man. He'd seen him a couple of times with Reddington, but he was barely recognizable now.

"He looks bad…" Aram said beside him, barely audible over the chopper, echoing all their thoughts.

Leaving the grass they now headed along the building, and as soon as they got behind the building, the roar of the helicopter engines abated somewhat. They came to the broken door, the shattered hole in the woodwork announcing it as the entry place Red had taken earlier.

"This looks like the place…" Aram offered again to his silent companions. Inside the building they walked quickly along the dark hallway, their way illuminated by flashlights. From the shadows a familiar figure was coming toward them.

"Agents Ressler and Mojtabai. It is good to see you," Dembe greeted them, nodding to Shanks behind Ressler.

"Dembe!" grinned Aram, meeting Aram's smile, now noticing the dried blood on Dembe's hands and jacket. "Your man doesn't look-"

Ressler interrupted Aram, dispensing with the pleasantries. "What happened?" he asked as Dembe swung his backpack off his shoulder. Opening it, he pulled out two semi-automatic pistols, handing them to Ressler and Aram.

"Raymond mentioned you were unarmed. You will need these," he told them noting Ressler's raised eyebrows. "Raymond always insists on being over prepared in some things. And the men who took him did not see the pack as they left," he added in explanation before answering Ressler's question. "A man with a broken nose took him after we walked into a trap. We were outnumbered."

"Our broken nosed friend again…" said Shanks softly behind Ressler who merely nodded before clipping the gun into his holster, feeling the pressure that put on his stitches and incision.

Aram was looking at his weapon, feeling the weight of it in his hand.

Ressler caught the look. "Pretend they're paper."

"She told you?!"

As Dembe handed a weapon to Shanks, he held up his hand and indicated his right hip under his blue USCG jacket. "I'm armed," he replied.

Ressler looked to the medic, raising his eyebrows. "Then I hope you can shoot left handed."

Shanks looked at Ressler with a small smile. "Hey, between you limping around clutching your belly and me with one banged up hand, I think we'll make do."

Dembe was now taking something else out of his backpack, and turning on the FLIR scanner he showed the agents. "There is no one in the building. They have left," he said, moving the dark scanner slowly around them.

They walked along the hallway, stopping at the staircase. And clearly visible on the floor as Ressler shone the flashlight up and down the hallway of the empty building were small drops of dark red. Wet blood - leaving a definite trail down the stairs and away from them.

"Someone got shot?" Ressler asked Dembe, then groaned. "Oh, please don't tell me it was Reddington. I don't have enough blood to spare right now."

Dembe smiled at that. "I clipped one of the men in his arm," he told Ressler as they now followed the trail along the dark hallway, picking out the wet drops of blood at intervals. Moving further into the building, they passed quietly down a dark corridor. Closed doors lined the hallway at intervals as Dembe scanned each room to find them all cold and empty. At length they came to a door that led outside.

"Wait here," said Ressler, walking on a few more steps. Satisfied that the blood trail had stopped at the door, he went back to them. And knowing no one was out there thanks to the infra-red scanner, they turned off the flashlight yet still ventured cautiously through the door, finding themselves on the side of the main building. Across a narrow strip of grass a small open gate was visible in the moonlight. The building behind them now, they moved through the gate and entered the forest again. Their way was clear though, as a well-worn path wound through the trees toward the sound of crashing waves in the distance.

"Keep scanning," Ressler told Dembe, who didn't need to be told. "What's the range on that thing? How much notice will we have?"

Dembe's reply was suddenly drowned out in the roar of engines as the Jayhawk helicopter lifted off, hovering above the building, its searchlight shining down over them. Taking cover under a large tree and shielding their eyes against the light and downdraft, they stood back as the orange and white chopper turned in midair in a perfect motion. Pitching forward, taking Liz and Reddington's wounded man with them, the helo then headed toward the coastline before them.

Stepping out from under the tree as the chopper left their immediate vicinity, Ressler watched it above the trees as it slowly turned, heading back toward the mainland, extinguishing its searchlight as it did so. And in the relative silence with the helicopter fading out of earshot now, he heard his phone ringing. Retrieving it quickly from his pocket, he saw Liz's caller ID.

"What's wrong?!" he asked her.

"We saw them! Four men with Red, heading toward a small building out on the point above the beach!" she told him above the roar of the chopper's blades.

Ressler was pointing forward, motioning for them to move out as he still spoke to Liz. "How far?" he asked her, attempting to move as quickly as he could through the trees. He was well aware he wasn't moving as fast as his companions and they were compensating for him.

"Not too far from where you are at! There is a very small beach with a dock and they were walking on the grass above it toward the building. It was hard to see clearly through fog on the ocean though!" she told him.

"We're on it!" he told her, about to hang up when she quickly added for him to be careful.

"I will," he told her in a softer tone, then hung up and slipped his phone back in his inner jacket pocket.

###

Red was sick and tired of being pushed roughly through the trees by the idiot with the assault rifle at his rear. And after one particularly rough shove, he stopped and whirled on the broken nosed man behind him.

"Enough. I am quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other without the butt of your rifle reminding me how to do that at every step."

"We need to move," was all he got from Broken Nose.

Red ignored him, his face suddenly lighting up in a large grin. "I must say, that looks awfully bruised and painful. I had a broken nose once. Strangest thing. Funny actually now that I look back on it. The man whose life I've saved a few times since gave it to me. Apparently that's a specialty of his, giving his attackers broken noses. I believe you're intimately acquainted with his methods too now."

"Shut up."

Chuckling to himself, Red shook his head, and turned to walk down the dimly lit pathway, as they approached the ocean waves. Ahead of him, two armed men led the way. And behind Broken Nose, the man Red had been studying while regaling him with his short story was not looking too good with blood saturating his sleeve. Red had seen what he needed. And if the time came, he'd use that information.

"Where are you taking me?" Red asked, turning his head to look at the man behind him, who had finally stopped shoving him with his rifle.

"You'll see when we get there."

"Well it can't be far, since we're about to run out of land and hit the ocean, judging by the fog gathering around us. And I'm guessing that Conrad Lucas is already there. And you can't get anything out of him, can you? You need some leverage in the form of an old friend to help sway his mind," said Red congenially.

The broken nosed man didn't reply, which was all the confirmation Red needed. Breaking through the trees as they entered a grassy area, the fog swirled around them. And ahead, barely visible in the beams of the flashlights, the ground dropped away in a steep slope to a beach. As the waves crashed into rocks nearby out of sight in the dark, Red attempted to make a mental note of his bearings in the moonlight. As they walked further along the grass the roar of the helicopter taking off reached them. Stopping momentarily, he turned as the orange and white helo approached over the treetops.

"Move it."

Bringing his gaze back to his captor, he shook his head at the man. "Oh, don't you have anything other than that in your vocabulary?" he told Broken Nose as he received another shove with the rifle.

"That way," his rifle wielding captor told him, moving him away from the beach and further along the point toward the sound of the rocks.

As Red was about to offer another retort, the chopper flew overhead, whipping up the grass and causing the fog to swirl in large eddies around them. As its searchlight lit up the area like daylight with its sudden brightness, Red looked around him quickly, cementing his surroundings firmly in his mind. A small beach was below them with rocks at either end with a previously unseen floating dock in the center. Off to his left the land rose, free of trees and forming a rocky cliff of approximately 50 feet in height. A small building sat further up the slope. His destination, he now realized.

The chopper flew low over them, accelerating and rising over the ocean in a wide turn toward the mainland. As they banked, the searchlight was suddenly shut off plunging them back into darkness. And in a rare moment where Raymond Reddington was mistaken, he wished the FBI agents well on their journey away from the island.

###

As Ressler and his men made their way toward the beach, tendrils of fog became visible, moving slowly through the trees and casting a smoky appearance in the moonlight. Visibility around them was still good as they moved forward, now hearing the crashing of waves on rocks. The memory of approaching the lighthouse rocks suddenly sprang to Ressler's mind. It felt a lifetime ago and he didn't relish the thought of another night swim.

"Anything?" he asked Dembe quietly, the man still holding the FLIR scanner in front of them as they made their way down the pathway, picking their way through the damp forest floor.

"Not yet, Agent Ressler," he replied, still moving the scanner, "though the trees may be blocking it somewhat." Ressler glanced at the scanner, seeing the trees as yellow and green on it. They had to be getting close though. The sound of the waves was increasing as the fog swirled around their legs as they walked.

Aram followed Dembe, bringing up the rear. His new found confidence was rapidly being replaced with nerves. On a wooded path at night, with fog rolling in and armed men in front of them, he was SO over being in the field. And ruing the fact that he had defied Agent Ressler's orders instead of being safely on the chopper, he pushed onward, his eyes darting from the scanner to the trees before them.

"Stop."

They stopped at Dembe's quiet command, as Ressler immediately looked at the scanner in his hands. And now they saw the difference. Beyond the yellow trees were several figures moving slowly, showing up as red ovals with white centers on the scanner.

"Okay, we're getting close," said Ressler, nodding to Dembe to shut off the scanner to keep them hidden. But as Dembe went to turn the scanner off, Ressler put out his hand to stop him.

"Wait!"

On the scanner, someone was moving faster. The sound of a distant gunshot rang out from in front of them.

"Shit. Move it!" Ressler told them and grabbing his stomach, he moved as fast as he could to the beach. Dembe sprinted ahead stowing the scanner as he drew his weapon, while Aram hung back with Ressler and Shanks.

"Go!" he hissed at Aram, pushing him onward. He looked quickly to Shanks. "My shadow and I will catch up!"

Their way obscured by the thickening fog around them, Aram tried in vain to catch up to Dembe as they moved down the pathway with weapons drawn. With Dembe far ahead of him in the lead, Aram didn't know what scared him more. That they would find the men and take them down, or that they wouldn't find them in the fog and they'd get surrounded and taken.

Moving faster now as Ressler forced himself onward he continued down the pathway as the fog grew thicker around them. At his side, Shanks looked at him as Ressler clutched his belly and gasped as pain shot through his middle. Grabbing at nearby tree trunk, he pitched forward as a wave of pain washed over him.

"Dammit!" he panted, trying to rise.

Shanks dropped his kit to the ground and hastily opened it.

"I'm fine," Ressler whispered, clutching the tree as his belly threatened to split him in two.

"Yeah. Right. Take your jacket off."

"Don't have time-"

"Shut up and take your jacket off," Shanks repeated, leaning close to Ressler who suddenly gave up arguing. He complied, shedding his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeve as Shanks prepared another injection. And leaning against the tree, he let the medic give him another dose, knowing he wouldn't be able to move much further without it.

"Thanks," he whispered, rolling down his sleeve and throwing his jacket back on, not waiting on the shot to take effect. And dragging himself up off the tree in pain as Shanks hoisted his medic kit onto his back again, he took off behind Dembe and Aram as Shanks dragged him by his arm.

###

Red was still watching the lights of the Jayhawk disappear in the night sky as his captor called them to a halt. Having cleared the trees, they stood on the grassy slope over the beach, the wooden dock below them stretching out into the waves, becoming lost in the grey fog on the ocean.

"Dammit. Where the hell is he?" Broken Nose asked of one of his men, who shrugged, looking out at the ocean. He turned to the bleeding man behind him. "Get down there and wait for him," he said. The man nodded, took a glance to Red and then headed off down the slope to the beach as the fog whirled around him.

"Go get him," he ordered another one of his men, and from in front of Red one of the armed men sprinted further up the slope to the shack.

Red could only assume that 'him' meant Conrad as he regarded the broken nosed man. "Am I to assume the party you were rendezvousing with has not shown up? Staff and coordination problems are such a bitch, aren't they?" he said pleasantly.

"Shut up."

Red laughed out loud, truly amazed at his captors single mindedness. But turning toward the shack as movement up the slope caught his attention, his laughter ceased.

In the moonlight, appearing out of the fog, Conrad was being brought out of the shack at gunpoint with hands cuffed in front of him. And despite the low light and fog, what was clearly visible in the light from his warden's flashlight was the beating his face had endured. As Conrad approached, stumbling slightly then catching himself, Red felt his blood boil at the sight of his friends bloodied and bruised features. One eye swollen shut, black and bleeding; nose clearly broken in some sort of sick retaliation; and lips torn with blood seeping from them. As the man approached, a bruised black band was visible around his throat, the outline of chain links clearly outlined even against his blue skin.

But Conrad wasn't going down without a fight, and as Red watched, he body slammed his captor, knocking him to his feet. Whirling on him, the man grabbed his rifle and fired recklessly, narrowly missing Conrad as he scooted out the way.

Broken Nose's cry rang out. "Don't! I need him alive!"

Red never said a word. Simply turned into his captor so fast, the man didn't even have time to react. Unarmed, Red utilized the only weapon he had. His arm wrapped around the broken nosed man's throat, choking the breath of out him.

Caught off guard, the armed gunman nearby turned back to Red.

In a blur, all Red saw was a dark streak to his left as a shot rang out, dropping the armed gunman in front of him lifeless to the ground. Attempting to retrieve the rifle with his foot, all Red achieved was sending it clattering down the rocks behind him.

"Dembe!" Red yelled, as Broken Nose struggled under his tight grip, "Up the slope!"

But Dembe had already seen the gunman beside Conrad re-aiming his rifle. And stepping in front of Red, he fired into the fog, catching the man beside Conrad in the arm, the rifle falling to the ground a few feet from him. It was enough. In a move that Red would not have believed possible from the tortured man, Conrad whirled on his captor, thrust his hands over the man's head and began to choke him with his cuffs.

"The gun! Dembe! Get the gun!" yelled Red, as Dembe flew up the slope toward Conrad and his captor, racing the man to the gun.

But Conrad was tiring as his adrenaline rush faded. The beating had taken a toll. And as Dembe ran for the gun the man was quicker. Slipping out from under Conrad and shoving him away, the man grabbed for the rifle right before Dembe.

Another shot rang out.

Red could only stare at the two men, unsure which one had been struck. Red hadn't even seen Aram running up the slope behind him until he had fired beside him, taking down the gunman in front of Dembe.

"Oh my God! Mr Reddington!" yelled Aram, now turning in horror toward him.

"See to Conrad!" Red ordered him, and nodding he ran up the slope toward Conrad who was now staggering.

Broken Nose wasn't done. Not nearly. And as Red choked him, he moved back, pushing Red with him. Feeling his footing losing grip, Red suddenly realized how close to the cliff edge he was in the fog billowing around him. And redoubling his efforts, he tightened his grip on the man's throat.

And out of the fog came a voice, yelling at him.

"Reddington! Don't!"

###

Ressler ran through the trees and onto the grassy banks, moving as fast as his body would let him. The pain pills had kicked in while Shanks had half dragged him; half supported him down the forest path. But more than that, it was his adrenaline sustaining him now. Jogging through the foggy bank with gun drawn he ran headlong into Red strangling the life out of the broken nosed man.

"Reddington!"

Beside Ressler, Shanks saw Conrad fall and seeing that Ressler was still on his feet, he hesitated, then ran up the slope to the fallen man.

Red wasn't listening to Donald. This man had beaten his friend to a pulp. Strangling even harder, he dug into the man's throat, hearing and feeling the small bones cracking under his grip. A gurgle came from Broken Nose's throat as he blacked out.

"Reddington!" Ressler was beside Red now, holding his gun to him. "Let him go! Don't do this!" But he'd seen that look in Reddington's eyes before. There was no stopping the man.

"Donald. Step away."

"Let him go!"

But Ressler was too late. Hearing the man's neck snap under the vice like grip he fell limp in Red's arms. And as if he were a sack of garbage, Red tossed him behind him and down the cliff to the rocks some 50 feet below.

"Damn you!" Ressler yelled at him, lowering his weapon and glaring at the criminal.

Red faced him calmly, as if he had just ordered caviar and fine wine at a five star restaurant. But he hadn't. He had just killed a man with his bare hands.

"Reddington, I swear," said Ressler, shaking his head and walking away from the man, his jaw clenched. He couldn't even look at him.

But there was one gunman they were unaware of. The bleeding man had raced back up the slope at the sound of gunfire. And in the fog he saw his boss come hurtling down the cliff face to land beside him, dead eyes fixed and glassy in the half moon. Raising his weapon he fired at the only man he saw.

The one who had just killed his boss.

Behind Ressler, Red dropped as the shot rang out and with a startled cry he fell back, stumbling over the cliff face.

"No!" cried Ressler, whirling at the shot and sound from Red. As the criminal toppled, blood pouring from his lower left leg, Ressler threw himself to the ground and grabbed Red's arms to stop him going over. Stomach on fire, he felt it rip as he lurched forward to hang desperately onto Red. Sliding forward under Red's weight he was being pulled slowly over the cliff himself.

"Donald! I'll pull you over too! Let me go!" said Red, unable to find any ground under his feet as the agent clung to his outstretched arms.

Behind them a shot rang out as Dembe took out the man down the slope who had been aiming at Reddington again.

Screaming out in pain, hanging on to Red's arm, all Ressler could do was clench his eyes shut against the agony tearing through his belly and yell at the criminal.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare go over!"


	13. The Cliff

"Donald!" Hands clutching at the small rocks and grass of the cliff side, Red yelled into the agent's face. "Let me go before we both go over!"

Ressler ignored Red. Eyes clenched against the searing pain in his belly; his fingers gripping the criminal's arms, he felt himself inching toward the cliff. He couldn't hold on much longer. Yet he didn't dare let go. As if in fast forward a slideshow hurtled through his mind, offering glimpses of his years on the hunt for Red. Years following him with his coterie of door kickers, always one, but usually two steps behind the fugitive. Years in which he single mindedly pursued Reddington at the expense of everything and everyone else. He'd tried to kill him in Brussels yet Red had slipped through his fingers. The same fingers that were now clutching to the man desperately. And as the scenes flashed through the past two years where everything had changed between them in their merry-go-round of shared life and death experiences, there was no way he could let this man go.

Absolutely no way. Even if he died trying.

"Donald, for God's sake!" yelled Red, slipping further over the edge, his feet unable to find any ground beneath them as blood streamed down his lower left leg and falling onto the rocks below. "Damn it! Let go!"

"No!" Ressler gasped through clenched teeth as spots swam before his eyes. He was drifting. The pain was taking him down as his body shook with the exertion. Fighting against it he opened his eyes to see Red before him hanging over the cliff, his eyes wide as he yelled at him again to let go. Behind him the fog drifted over the ocean, lit in the moonlight in a white haze. The roar of the waves crashing on the rocks below filled his ears, and catching a glimpse below them Ressler saw the bodies of two men sprawled below them in the fog.

He was not going to make it four bodies lying on the rocks. Screaming against the pain as fresh fire tore through his torso. A warm wetness spread on his abdomen, the seeping blood soaking his clothing as his flesh strained to the breaking point. And as he was pulled forward another two inches, shouts came toward him from up the slope.

"Raymond!"

"Agent Ressler!

"Hang on!"

The voices were surreal, floating out of the thick fog closing in around them now as he clung to Reddington. Digging his toes into the damp ground to stop them going over Ressler shut his eyes tight again, concentrating. "Don't!" he yelled as Red slipped even further. He was drifting further. Losing it. Yet still he refused to let go of Red. "Don't you dare," he panted, unsure if he was berating himself or Reddington as his breath heaved against the pain.

Dembe was suddenly beside him, dropping to his knees on the grass and seizing Reddington arms and shoulders. "Raymond, I have you!"

Someone was beside Ressler, holding his shoulder, but Ressler couldn't tell who it was until he heard Shanks close by his ear. "I've got you!" The medic was practically sitting on Ressler now, igniting further pain in his belly under his weight as he cried out at the new wave of pain.

Holding Red's arms, Dembe hauled his boss further back up onto the grassy slope. Now inching back upward as Dembe pulled, Red's breath came in sharp gasps, his air momentarily obstructed as his chest was crushed against the ridge. Kneeling precariously on the cliff edge and in danger of toppling over himself, Dembe wasn't going to let that impede his progress. He pulled harder, edging backward and slowly pulling Reddington back to safety.

"I have him!" called Dembe close to Ressler's ear. "Agent Ressler, you can let go!"

"Agent Ressler!" Aram yelled at him, now at Dembe's side and helping drag Reddington back up with Dembe. "You can let go!"

Fingers were prying his hands from Reddington. "No!" Ressler cried, the black spots thickening in his field of view. In so much pain, he hadn't even felt that his arms had begun to move to the side as he clung to Red. But realizing that the weight on his hands had changed, he opened his eyes to find Red being hauled back over the cliff to safety. And seeing Reddington being safely hauled back up, Ressler finally let go of the criminal.

"Get them away from this cliff face!" called Shanks, now lifting himself up off Ressler as Dembe and Aram dragged Red a few feet back on the grass. As they came back to retrieve Ressler from the edge, he grit his teeth as they rolled him over and half dragged, half carried him from the edge and deposited him near Red.

As Red lay breathlessly on his back beside the agent, his cramped arm fell toward Ressler. "Donald. Never let it be said that you don't know when to quit."

Shanks grinned with relief. "You mean he's a stubborn bastard," he said, patting Ressler on the chest.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," chuckled Red and closed his eyes as Dembe started to check his bleeding leg.

###

Shanks had two patients and only one working hand, so quickly took charge and assigned tasks. "Aram. Check his belly," he told him, motioning to Ressler.

Conrad joined them, having walked slowly down the slope as they had run down and hauled Red back onto the grass. In severe pain from his beating at the hands of Broken Nose, Conrad was moving slowly, but still able to assist.

"Conrad, you doing okay?" Shanks asked as he put his arm out to the man, seeing the obvious pain he was in. "Sit down here," he added, and offered his left arm in support as Conrad sunk gratefully to the ground beside Ressler.

"Dembe, there are scissors in the medic kit. Cut that pants leg off so I can look at that bullet wound," Shanks told the man, stepping by Conrad and coming to Red again. "He's losing a lot of blood here."

Ressler could hear them talking, but the voices were distant, as if from the bottom of a barrel. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face Red. "I have some to spare," he said quietly.

Shanks simply looked at him. "What?"

Red smiled at the agent. "I think I'll manage, Donald."

Shanks was fishing his two way radio out of his kit. He was out of range to their base, but maybe if they had boats in the area, one would pick up a signal. Looking out at the ocean that was rapidly becoming invisible in the fog, he spoke into the radio.

"Base, this is Shanks out on Cedar, over." Releasing the mic button, he was met with silence. He tried again, but again got no response.

"We're out of range," he told them, tossing the radio back in his kit and leaning down toward Red as his blood spread in a dark stain on the grass under him. "It doesn't look like it broke your leg, but let's have a look."

Red looked up at the medic. "I don't feel a bullet in there. It went right through," he told the man. "I'll be fine. Pity I can't say the same about my suit though," he said regretfully as Dembe tossed the cut fabric aside.

Conrad motioned to Aram to shine the flashlight on Ressler's belly and in the beam of light, he moved Ressler's jacket out the way. Blood was visible as a dark patch seeping through the fabric of Ressler's jeans.

"Yeah, there's blood here, doc," Conrad informed Shanks, his voice raspy and barely there, the chains that had pressed against his vocal cords having damaged them badly. Shanks looked up from working on Red's bullet wound after ascertaining that the bullet had indeed gone straight through the calf, narrowly missing his fibula.

"I'm not surprised. Take some gauze from the kit here and see if you can stop the bleeding," Shanks told Conrad, as Dembe now took over applying pressure to Red's two wounds. "Dembe, hold that gauze tight."

Still out of it and trembling, Ressler started when he felt hands at his unbuckled belt unzipping his jeans and moving them aside.

"What... what are you...?" he asked, raising his head to see Conrad and Aram either side of him.

"Oh, don't get your hopes up, I'm just checking your belly here," Conrad rasped to him, as Ressler dropped his head again.

Peeling the blood soaked dressing away from Ressler's wound now, the source of the bleeding became apparent. Stitches lay useless on one side of the incision, having ripped out of the opposite side. But what caught their attention was either side of the precise incision. The skin was ragged and ripped. Unable to withstand the strain, it had ripped about an inch along either side of the incision.

Shining the flashlight, Aram let out a gasp. "Whoa!"

"Yes indeed," agreed Conrad, as the flashlight illuminated Ressler's bleeding belly.

Ressler lifted his head again, to look down to his belly, but could see nothing. "How bad is it?"

Shanks leaned over to them, handing them a large wad of gauze, cursing at the sight of Ressler's torn belly. "Your skin has ripped at the incision line," he explained to Ressler, who dropped his head back to the grass again in exhaustion and shut his eyes. "Remember what I said about being stub-" He looked quickly at the trembling agent, then changed his mind and returned his attention back to Red.

Aram was still beside him. "Sorry Agent Ressler. I thought I'd stitched you up good."

At the sound in his voice, Ressler raised his arm and lightly found Aram's arm. "You did... It's my fault..." And if his eyes had been open, he'd have seen the smile that lit up Aram's features.

Conrad unwrapped the large gauze pack, patted Ressler's chest reassuringly and then pressed it to the wound to stop the bleeding. As agony flared in the wound, Ressler gasped, squirming under Conrad and lifting his knees a little in an effort to curl up.

Shanks was still working on Red. The entry wound was cleaner and smaller and as Red grimaced, the medic packed it tight with wadding as Dembe lent a hand, literally. "We'll pack them tight with gauze and it will hold until we can get these two holes stitched up properly."

As he worked on the larger exit wound, it took a lot more to get it to stop bleeding. With Dembe packing the wound for him, Shanks looked back up to Red. "I don't have two good hands to sew you up with, so that will have to wait."

Red grinned up at the medic. "Oh, that's quite alright, Mr Shanks. You may need that thread for Donald since he keeps insisting on being the hero."

###

Ten minutes later, Red's wound was packed with gauze and his lower leg bound in bandages. "Good as new," Shanks quipped to Red, who gave him a congenial smile from his pale features.

"Well done, Mr Shanks. You're a handy man to have around," said Red as Dembe helped him up to a sitting position. "No pun intended."

"Gentlemen," said Shanks, holding up a small clear bottle. "I have enough pain medication here for one dose only. Which one of you do I give it to?" he asked them, looking from one to the other.

"Give it to him," Ressler and Red both said in unison, each indicating the other.

Conrad laughed at both of them. "Oh, no surprises there," he said, shaking his head at the two men as Shanks shrugged and dropped the bottle back in his kit.

Shanks moved to Ressler and removed the blood soaked gauze that Conrad had held in place. As Aram shone the flashlight, Shanks checked the wound.

"This will hurt," he told Ressler, moving his gloved hand slowly over the incision. "Last chance for that medication..."

"I'm fine," said Ressler, swallowing hard against the pain.

Shanks was true to his word. As he moved the split edges of the incision apart, moving the torn skin Ressler gasped, gritting his teeth as the medic examined the reopened wound. As Aram shone the flashlight, Shanks was just able to see the stitches on the layer underneath through the blood. Some of them had also ripped, but most had held.

"Not as bad as I'd feared in some ways, but the torn skin is a concern," he told Ressler, taking his hand off his belly now as Conrad replaced the gauze. He leaned down to Ressler panting in pain under him. "The torn stitches and skin are on the outer layer. The stitches on the layers below held for the most part. But the tear is bleeding a lot. "

"So, just a flesh wound," Ressler panted, as Aram cracked up beside him.

"Exactly," smiled Red, sitting on the grass beside the agent.

"Let's get it sealed and covered, Shanks told them, standing up again. "We'll also pack it and get him sewn back up later in a better environment. We need to get the hell off this rock." As Conrad held the incision and torn skin together as best he could, Dembe taped it together with several strips of surgical tape, before covering the area with a large sheet of adhesive plastic. Panting under them as they worked, and really getting tired of being manhandled around his privates, Ressler held as still as he could.

"Base, this is Shanks out on Cedar," tried Shanks again on the radio as they literally stuck Ressler temporarily back together. Again they were met with silence.

Looking up at the medic, Aram picked up his phone as he stood carefully up from Ressler and dialed a number.

"Samar, we may need an exit strategy," he told her, walking away from the group and away from the cliff edge.

As he walked down the slope, mindful of the drop off to the rocks a few feet to his left, the sound of a boat reached them from the ocean. Aram turned slightly, phone still to his ear and looking into the fog as the soft glow of white lights approached. Unsure if this was a good development or a worse one, he moved hurriedly back to the group as Red looked toward the foggy ocean.

"Turn off the flashlights," Red told them quickly. "It would appear that our recently departed captor's tardy employee has finally arrived. If we're lucky we have not been seen through the fog yet."

Still lying on the ground beside him, Ressler spoke up. "We're never that lucky."

###

"Donald, you really do need to learn to take on a more optimistic view in life. This is potentially a good development," said Red, before looking up at Dembe. "We need to get down to that dock."

Ressler motioned for Aram to help him up. Grimacing as he sat unsteadily, he looked at Red and Dembe. "You think he's just gonna hand over that boat?"

"I will ask nicely, Agent Ressler," said Dembe, suddenly grinning at the agent before leaving their sides, running low and crouched down along the grassy point toward the pathway that led to the beach.

"You see? We'll be out of here in no time," beamed Red, watching his man run into the fog and disappear from their view.

"You'll forgive me if I don't share your optimism just yet," said Ressler, as they saw the white lights approaching the dock through the fog. He wasn't going to tell Reddington that the last thing he needed to top off his wonderful weekend on an island resort was to go for a boat cruise.

"Besides, we have a Plan B. The boat that Dembe and Frank came in is on the other side of the island." added Red, as the fog swirled around the upper levels of the boat.

"I think we're up to Plan E, actually," said Aram quietly, hunkered down beside Ressler, then looked up as Ressler turned to him. "Oh, did I say that out loud?"

Aram looked past Ressler to Red. "Even if Dembe gets that boat, how are we going to get down to it?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Agent Mojtabai," Red told him as they watched the boat lights glide in to a stop at the dock mooring.

"I don't like this. I should be down there," said Ressler, attempting to climb to his feet without much success.

"Dembe will take care of it," Red told him, still looking toward the lights in the fog as the boat bobbed on the ocean. "Sometimes, Donald, you just need to sit back and let others do it."

Ressler exhaled heavily, trying to see through the fog and hating to admit that Red was right.

As the boat dropped anchor, a shot rang out from below them, momentarily lighting up the dock in the muzzle flash. Dembe had made his move.

"Damn. We just came to that bridge," said Ressler, gritting his teeth as they tried to see through the fog and ascertain what was happening.

Shanks was sitting beside Conrad as the man gasped and leaned forward. "Conrad, hang in there," he told him, leaning forward and listening to Conrad's chest as they sat on the grass. "Looks like we could be on our way soon."

A return shot came from the boat cabin, followed by a second shot from the dock. As the sound of running feet reached them from the dock, Ressler looked at Aram in frustration. "I need you to get down there!"

"Um..."

As Aram hesitated, Conrad leaned forward, clutching his stomach as Shanks tried to check him in the dark.

"No need Aram. Look," said Red as the lights of the boat flashed on and off a few times. "See that? Morse code for 'DZ'. Dembe has the boat," he told them before turning his attention to Conrad.

"Well I'll be. That was almost easy," said Aram, standing up from Ressler and looking out at the foggy dock.

"It's always easy when you're just sitting back watching," Ressler told his colleague.

Aram turned to him. "Actually, it's not. I watch you, Liz and Samar out in the field all the time. I can assure you, there are times it's not easy."

Ressler looked up at him from the ground as he regarded him silently. He'd watched from the safety of the war room while Liz was on the train with Harrison Lee, and sat in surveillance vans while she was in the field. Aram was quite right. He nodded to his colleague then turned to Conrad who was obviously suffering the effects of his beating.

"Lie down and let me look at you," Shanks was asking Conrad, who was shaking his head.

"I'll be fine," he rasped.

"I'm surrounded by obstinate patients today," sighed Shanks turning his attention to below them as the fog swirled in the moonlight.

"Here he comes," said Red as a dark figure emerged from the fog. "Dembe, I trust everything went successfully?"

"Of course," he answered Red, barely breaking a sweat at his exertion. "We have a boat."

Red looked at Ressler, grinning. "There you go, Donald. Our luck just changed."

###

A series of excursions by Dembe and Aram up the slope and back to the boat, bearing one man at a time between them was under way, getting each wounded man on board. Conrad was brought on board first, Shanks walking beside him worriedly. As they placed him on a cot inside the small boat cabin, Shanks turned on the lights and examined his patient, despite his protests.

"I'll be fine, doc," he rasped unconvincingly, but this time the medic wasn't having it. Lifting up Conrad's shirt, he pressed his hand to his belly as the man gasped in pain again.

Looking closer, Shanks swore. "Damn! I missed it in the dark!" Shanks' worried eyes shot to Conrad. "Shit!"

"What...?" Conrad asked him, panting as he lay on the cot.

"Your skin is so blue I didn't see it, even under the flashlights! You're bleeding internally. Your abdomen is full of blood," explained Shanks, now seeing the tell tale bruising in the bright light as Conrad's abdomen filled with blood. Setting up the blood pressure cuff awkwardly with his one good hand on Conrad's wrist he waited impatiently. And as the reading came up on the cuff, Shanks swore again.

"I'll be back!" Leaving his patient a moment he raced up on deck to check the progress. Aram and Dembe were approaching with Ressler between them, carrying the agent despite his futile protests that he could walk.

"We need to move it!" Shanks told them as they stepped aboard and sat Ressler on a bench seat on the deck.

"What's wrong?" Ressler asked the medic, seeing the concern.

Shanks pointed back to the cabin. "He's going to die on us if we don't get out here very, very soon."

Aram and Dembe heard and jumped down to the dock and ran along the wooden boards, soon lost in the fog in their quest to retrieve Red.

"Is there anything you can do?" Ressler asked the medic, sitting uncomfortably on the foam seat as the boat rocked gently on the waves.

"Getting him out of here is all I can do," he said, turning back to the cabin door. "But I have an idea on that."

The medic's voice faded as he went back to the cabin, leaving Ressler alone on the deck. Looking down into the waves he suddenly saw the clothing and back of a body floating in the water - the former occupant of the boat that Dembe had taken out. Lifting his gaze from the body he noticed the fog around them was closing in even further, cocooning the boat in a small area as the dock disappeared out of sight not far in front of him. The beach was invisible, as were the rocks and cliff face. He wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but this was a little unnerving. And in the first relatively quiet moment he'd had since he'd put her on the helicopter, he reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed Liz's number. She answered almost immediately.

"Hey," he said, glad to hear her voice.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm great," he lied, listening to her snort at the other end of the line as she knew he was lying.

"Did you find Red and Conrad?"

"Yeah, we got them," he told her, deciding not to tell her just how he had got Red and the entire cliff hanging episode. "Conrad's in bad shape after they beat the tar out of him though. Those bastards. Shanks just said he needs to get him out of here. We're on a boat now though," he told her, exhaling heavily. He didn't elaborate on the boat either. Just let her assume it was the boat Dembe had arrived on.

"Oh my, I bet it was that broken nosed man!"

"I'd bet money on it. How about you? They check you out?" he asked, looking impatiently toward the foggy end of the dock as he waited for Aram, Dembe and Red.

"Yeah," she replied, "I'm okay. A couple of bruised kidneys and a slight concussion, but I'm good."

"That doesn't sound good, Liz. You at the hospital?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn't put as much strain on his belly.

He noticed the hesitation. "Not exactly…"

"What does that mean?" he asked, lifting his head to peer into the fog again, almost willing the figures of the returning men to appear.

"I'm at the Coast Guard station, in their medical bay and-"

Ressler stood quickly, interrupting her and gasping in pain "You are? Liz, we need the chopper here! We're on a boat but it's slow and I don't think we have time to get in. Conrad needs help now. Shanks isn't sure he's going to make it."

"What? Oh my god!" he heard her move her phone down and call out to someone, "Marshall! We need to get back out there!"

Half listening to Liz on the end of the phone and turning to Shanks as he came back on deck, Ressler spoke to the medic. "Liz is still at your base. She's trying to get the chopper out here."

"I'm way ahead of her. I radioed them from the cabin of the boat. They're suiting up now!" Shanks told him. As Ressler nodded in reply, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Dembe and Aram returning with Red between them, moving as quickly as they could along the dock.

He could still hear Liz in his ear yelling to Marshall in the background. "I'm coming with you!" She put the phone to her ear, as Ressler heard the sound of the helo engines firing up in the background. "I'm on my way back out there!" she told him, her voice getting drowned as she approached the chopper. "Where exactly are you?"

"Tell them to meet us at the lighthouse beach!" he told her, "In this fog they need to know exactly where we are. We'll make our way around there now!"

###

Reddington refused to let anyone else operate the boat, his left leg bandaged as blood seeped through the dressing a little, he sat in the captain's chair.

"Hand me those charts," he asked Dembe, who was standing beside him as Red maneuvered the boat back from the dock. Reaching for the chart he gave it to Red, who scanned it quickly and found their island. "Okay, good. No surprises of half submerged reefs in our path. Excellent."

In the cabin below, Conrad was not doing so well. Shanks had no saline left to even set up an IV to keep his blood pressure up. He lay with eyes closed and would have appeared deathly pale if it were not for his blue skin. His face was a bloody mess, despite Shanks' attempts to clean it somewhat. Aram sat on the bunk across from the injured man and the medic. Partly because he was concerned for Conrad - but mostly because he just needed to sit down and regroup.

"Um, if it's not to rude a question, why is he blue?" Aram asked the medic.

"He told me that he's consumed and bathed in colloidal silver for years after being diagnosed with several medical conditions. While he swears the silver helped and kept him alive, this is the result of prolonged exposure," Shanks informed him, keeping his fingers on Conrad's wrist as he listened to his weak pulse.

On deck, Ressler sat alone watching the dock disappear behind them as Red turned into the ocean swell and sounded the boat horn twice. Ressler had been given his instructions. Listen for any returning boat horns. In this visibility, Red had told him, they needed to alert their presence to other boats that might be in the vicinity.

The boat picked up speed and as Ressler held onto the handrail, clutching his belly with his other hand, he looked up. While the fog surrounded them, enveloping the ocean and land in a thick blanket, above him was not quite as thick. Seeing glimpses of a dark starry sky through swirls of fog, he didn't feel quite as trapped. As Red steered them around the point toward the north end of the island, sounding the horn twice again, a faint light appeared off to his left. It was familiar. Lowering his gaze from the sky above, Ressler looked to the north west and saw the rotating beam of the lighthouse breaking through the fog.

Aram left the cabin and went up the stairs to join Red and Dembe. "Um, how do you know where you're going in this fog?" he asked, looking dubiously outside at the white mist around them.

"Instruments, Aram. You see?" Red pointed to the console.

Aram really didn't see. "Aaahh, yes."

On deck, Ressler wasn't hearing any other boats nearby, much to his relief. As Red rounded the island the lighthouse lay before them now; the beacon clearly visible, while the white column below it faded into the fog. Coming closer, Ressler could hear the sound of the surf hitting the rocks and sure hoped Red knew what he was doing in this reduced visibility. But of course he did. The man knew the ocean.

"We're almost at the lighthouse, Conrad," Shanks told him leaning down to the man who half opened his one good eye in acknowledgement.

Ressler watched as the lighthouse grew, its beam turning faithfully above them. Now right beside it Ressler looked up at the white column rising from the dark rocks as Red took them past it. As the sound of the boat engine changed, Red turned the vessel into the small beach, cutting their speed as the surf hit the rocks either side of them. Coasting in as close to shore as he could get, Red cut the engine and dropped anchor just a few feet from shore in the shallow water.

"Help me get him on deck!" Shanks called up to Dembe and Aram. Both coming down the small staircase, they dropped down into the cabin and lifted Conrad as gently as they could between them.

"Here they come!" Ressler yelled down to them, hearing the first sounds of a distant helicopter.

"And not a moment too soon," muttered Shanks as Dembe and Aram moved Conrad up the stairs, then lay him on the deck at Ressler's feet.

Conrad was gazing up at the lighthouse, lying on the wooden deck of the small boat as Shanks kneeled down to him, listening to his heart through his stethoscope. The helicopter was louder now as faint lights appeared in the sky.

"Just hang on, okay? They're coming!" Shanks told him, leaning down to him. Conrad nodded, then suddenly convulsed, vomiting up dark blood onto the deck.

"Oh, God. That's not good," said Aram, instinctively stepping back from their injured companion on the crowded deck as Shanks rolled Conrad to his side.

Red was beside him now, sitting down heavily on the deck and putting his hand to his friends forehead. "You stay with me. Help is coming." Conrad's hand moved and Red took it in his own, hanging onto his friend. "Don't you give up on me!" he told Conrad, leaning down.

Conrad mouthed something to Red, but was unable to form words. "Conrad, I don't know what you're saying. I'm right here, my friend," Red told him. Conrad took his hand from Red and placed it on the deck.

The medic looked up at him "His heart rate is dropping dangerously low!"

On the deck, Conrad's hand moved, dipping his finger in his own blood then moving to the clear deck.

"Is he writing something?!" Aram leaned down to look, shining his phone light to the man.

"He is," said Red as the sound of helicopter grew, filling the air, its searchlight now igniting over the ocean.

"What…what is that?" Ressler asked.

"It's a number." Red looked at his friends finger moving to his blood then back to the deck.

"108," said Aram.

Ressler looked at Red. "What the hell is 108?"

"Conrad, what are you trying to tell us?" Red yelled over the sound of the approaching chopper, leaning down to his friend as Conrad's hand dropped to his side, his message complete. "Conrad!"

The roar of the helicopter was above them now, illuminating them in bright light, Conrad's numbers clearly visible.

"He's going to arrest! There's barely any blood pressure!" yelled Shanks over the helo as it hovered over the beach now, preparing to land.

And surrounded by new friends and one special old friend, Conrad's vision began to fade. Feeling Red's hands on him, he met Red's eyes and nodded very slightly.

"Rest easy my friend," Red told him, close to his ear now. Behind him, Dembe was saying a prayer, his hand reaching past Red to find Conrad's back.

Conrad turn his gaze to the lighthouse. In his years on the island it had been his constant companion. And above him now in the night sky, it shone brightly through the fog, illuminating his exit from this world. As his life faded, he held the beam of light as he slipped down into darkness.

And shining out into the foggy night, the lighthouse was the most comforting and very last thing Conrad ever saw.


	14. Airlifted

On the helicopter, Liz strained her eyes down through the fog, attempting to see what was happening on the deck of the small boat. Someone was down with others leaning over them. That much she could see. And knowing her reckless partner, it was likely him on the deck she surmised.

"Damn it, Ress…" she whispered to herself while still straining to see as the fog swirled below them. "I needed you to be careful."

Descending to the beach, sand sprayed as the rotors whipped it up, adding to the white mist that currently enveloped them. As the stark white searchlight illuminated the beach, the now vacant command tent came into view. Under their rotors the blue canopy leaned significantly, in danger of being pulled loose from its stakes. As they touched down onto the beach the chopper bounced then dropped down on its wheels, settling in the sand as the rotors slowed.

Unbuckling her belt and impatient to disembark, Deeks called back to her from the cockpit. "Ma'am, wait for us to open that door!" He told her as he flipped switches off on the console above him.

Agreeing impatiently as the cabin crew quieter she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her partner, almost terrified he wouldn't answer. As soon as he did, she interrupted him. "Are you okay? Who is down?!" she asked, leaning forward to look out the helicopter window toward the barely visible vessel bobbing on the waves.

The despondency evident in his voice, he replied. "I'm fine."

"Who-"

It was his turn to interrupt her. "We just lost Conrad, Liz. We were too late."

"Oh my gosh! Oh no!" holding her hand over her phone she looked to Deeks as his eyes darted back to her in concern from the cockpit. "We've lost one of our group!" she informed him.

"What happened?!"

"He just…" he stopped, closing his eyes as his stomach churned. "Look, I'll be over there in a little while," Ressler told her quietly, then hung up before she could reply.

Grimacing in frustration Deeks unbuckled his seatbelt, having finished their landing procedure and jumped out onto the sand. Coming around to her side, he unlocked then slid open the heavy chopper door and helped her down. She was feeling a little better, having received some medication, but her entire body was stiff and sore. With her head still aching somewhat she joined Deeks on the sand. Limestone rocks and debris lay nearby, piled either side of the ragged opening in the cliff side. Being intimately aware of how it had looked and felt inside the tunnel, it was her first sight of the explosion from this angle. She shivered, and not from cold.

The rotors dipped slightly above them and ground to a halt as the engines wound down to silence. Holding her arm, Deeks led her away from the chopper and across the sand. Eyes drawn to the boat bobbing indistinctly in the fog, she walked toward the waves that were lapping gently at the shore.

Deeks looked to her as she stood at the edge. "Let's not have an encore performance of you hurtling into those waves, okay?" he asked, smiling at her yet ready to grab her if she decided to ignore him.

Assuring him she wouldn't be doing that again, her gaze momentarily lifted to the beam of the lighthouse above them in the fog. Ghostly and surreal, it shone above its almost invisible white column in a white misty halo. Below it, the sound of waves washing against the unseen rocks came to her in the dark.

"They have a dinghy they'll get everyone off with," Marshall told her, coming up to join them, a two way radio squawking in his hand. He stepped aside to answer Shanks.

"We're ready, bring him over first," replied Marshall. He looked to Liz. "They'll be bringing your partner over first ma'am."

She nodded to Marshall. "Thanks…" If Ressler was coming off first, she knew he was doing badly. Running her fingers through her hair, she slowly paced at the shoreline waiting for the dinghy. Her partner hadn't sounded right. She should have insisted he get on the chopper with her hours ago, but there had been no stopping him.

Barely able to make out the activity on the boat through the dense fog, she again swore at her wayward partner. "Damn it, Ress..."

###

Ressler sat across from Red and Conrad as the lighthouse illuminated Conrad's '108' on the deck on each rotation. In too much pain to contemplate what the numbers meant, still he was drawn to them. The final message of a dying man, etched in his own blood. Across from them the beach was filled with airborne sand as the chopper descended and came to a halt. As the roar of the helicopter engines died down, returning the boat to relative silence, he dragged his eyes from Conrad and his cryptic numbers. His phone rang, lighting up with Liz's caller ID and with eyes on the helicopter he answered her.

On the deck below Ressler, Shanks was looking into Red's eyes, stethoscope still on Conrad's silent chest. "He's gone!" But Red already knew. "I'm sorry," he told Red, letting the stethoscope fall from Conrad. "Damn it…"

Hands on his dead friend, Red closed Conrad's remaining good eye, forever shutting off his final image of the lighthouse. Leaning down, Red whispered into his friend's ear - a final goodbye and promise given to him in a few quiet words. Beside him Dembe was still softly praying. As he finished he transferred his hand to Red's arm.

"Raymond. I am sorry."

"So am I, Dembe. So am I."

Aram had snapped a photo of Conrad's numbers as the helicopter searchlight had illuminated them. Phone in his hand he looked at the image as his mind raced. It was a number. 108. He loved numbers. But what did it mean? One hundred and eight what? Days? Hours? Seagulls? His brain was good at numbers yet he was drawing a blank. His eyes left his phone and took in the sight of Mr Reddington's bowed head over his dead friend. And turning away, Aram realized the number puzzle could wait a little.

His patient dead at his feet, Shanks stood up and tossed his stethoscope into his kit. Cursing, he turned to look up at the lighthouse. The man had died under his watch. He'd missed it. He hadn't seen the internal bleeding until it was far too late. Dropping his eyes, they settled on Ressler. The FBI agent's belly was currently stuck together and already bleeding again. He was now his priority.

"Aram." Shanks motioned to him, and as Aram stowed his phone he came and saw what the medic was struggling with. While attempting to lower the inflatable dinghy from its cradle on the back of the boat, the uncooperative hoist was refusing to budge. Giving it a good ole Fonzie whack, it groaned under Aram's hand then started moving, lowering the dinghy to the water.

Sliding with difficulty along the bench seat to give them room, Ressler rose unsteadily to his feet as he finished talking to Liz, dropping his phone back in his pocket. He really wasn't too feeling good and leaned on the railing, afraid he was about to throw up. Gasping as he leaned forward, Shanks was suddenly beside him.

"As soon as we get this dinghy in the water, you'll be first off, okay?" said Shanks, "We'll get you on board and taken care of," he added, motioning with his head back to the chopper on the beach.

Ressler shook his head, pointing back to Reddington sitting on the deck. "No, let Red-"

Shank wasn't taking no for an answer. Not after he'd just lost one patient, with the stark reminder of that fact lying inches from his feet. "You'll be first off this boat," he told the agent as the inflatable hit the water. "No more arguments. Got it?"

Red looked up from Conrad as Dembe helped him to his feet, hopping over to a seat. "Oh, he's got it. Haven't you Donald?"

Ressler didn't argue any more as he turned back to the deck, his stomach settling a little as he eyed Reddington and then Shanks. He understood where the medic was coming from and nodded to him silently. Partly because he felt for the guy. But mainly because he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand on his own two feet. Leaning against the railing and really not liking the bobbing of the boat on the water, he looked toward the helicopter again. Figures were visible in the fog. One of whom was Liz. The emptiness in the pit of his stomach lifted a little at that thought.

"Come on, let's get you to shore," said Shanks, as the dinghy dropped overboard. Stepping quickly and confidently down into it even with one hand, he turned back and motioned for Ressler to climb in. With Aram steadying him from above, Ressler slowly lowered himself down into it, gritting his teeth against the flare of pain across his belly as fresh blood oozed from under the makeshift dressing. Taking Shank's offered hand on his arm he sat on the small seat toward the front of the craft, breathing faster as the pain rippled through him anew.

"You too," Shanks called over to Red as he now balanced on one foot leaning on the handrail beside Dembe. "There's room."

"I'd like to see to Conrad first," Red replied.

"We'll get him sir. We'll take good care of him," Shanks told him, meeting Red's eyes from the dinghy.

Ressler's eyes shot to the medic. Déjà vu swept over him. Images of a cold roadway, a bleeding fiancé and an understanding coroner were before him. He pushed it aside and looked up as Red stepped carefully into the dinghy, coming to sit on the middle seat while favoring his left leg. With both men safely secured, Shanks gunned the small engine and took them the small distance to the shore, beaching the small craft beside Liz and Deeks.

"Oh my gosh!" cried Liz as she saw Red's bleeding bandaged lower leg and Ressler slowly standing with Deek's offered assistance. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the blood seeping down Ressler's front, fresh and wet and clearly visible in the searchlight of the helicopter. "What did you do?"

As Ressler was helped onto the sand by Shanks and Deeks he came to stand quietly beside Liz, ignoring her question. It was obvious what he'd done. He'd ignored doctors' orders and was bleeding.

As soon as Deeks got all three of them ashore, he left Shanks with them and pushed the small craft back out into the waves and returned to the boat. Standing beside them, Liz was looking from Red to her partner. Ressler was slightly hunched over in pain, while Red tried not to put too much weight on his left leg.

"Okay, let's get you guys up to the chopper," Shanks told them, looking pointedly at Ressler. "And we're not running off on any more little adventures or hanging off any more cliff faces, got it?"

"What?!" Liz turned quickly to her partner. "What is he talking about?!"

Ressler hunched forward a little more in pain as he looked up to Liz. "He talks too much. We're fine."

Red smiled on the other side of her. "Oh, you should have been there, Lizzie. You'd have killed your partner yourself at his sheer knuckle headedness. Or given him a medal," he shrugged. "But right now we need to get Donald to that helo before he falls over," he told her as Marshall joined them.

Shanks was already at Ressler's side, putting his good left arm around him and supporting him as he turned the agent on the sand and pointed him toward the waiting helicopter. Silent, standing over them in the sand, the orange and white helo was clearly illuminated in its own searchlight as well as the steady rotation of the lighthouse.

Behind them, Marshall assisted Red as he limped across the sand, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a small red trickle in the soft ground.

Ressler could feel his legs giving out. Shaking as he walked slowly to the chopper, he was leaning further.

"Hang in there," Shanks hissed at him, unable to support him more with his other hand.

Suddenly Liz was at his side, positioning herself under his shoulder and supporting him.

"No," he gasped, mindful of her own injuries.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are your own worst enemy?" she asked him quietly, holding up his weight as best she could as he trembled against her.

"Don't believe so," he gasped, then slipped and would have fallen if it weren't for Marshall grabbing him from behind them, leaving Red balancing on one leg in the sand.

"We've got you, sir."

Ressler leaned heavily on Marshall as Liz let him go. The ground was spinning. The orange and white chopper in his field of view was tilting precariously. Unable to stop it, he shut his eyes against it. Crying out as Marshall helped him on board, pulling at his open belly; he felt them laying him down on one of the cots at the back of the chopper.

Shanks was beside him laying a blanket over him. "Once the others are on board, we'll get you to the hospital up in Bangor. Be about 30 minutes and we'll be there, okay?" he told Ressler, leaning down to him. Shaking under the blanket as Shanks turned away to see to Red, Ressler suddenly reached up to Shanks arm.

"I'm sorry I've been such a stubborn prick," he said quietly.

Shanks grinned down at him, and spoke in a hushed tone. "Are you kidding me? Don't tell your partner this, but I am actually in awe of you. Sure, you've irritated and frustrated the heck out of the medic in me, but you sir, are something else," he told him, leaning over Ressler and patting his chest. "It's been a pleasure."

Ressler nodded and closed his eyes. "Glad to be of service..."

Behind them, Marshall helped Liz and Red on board and as Red sat down in one of the seats, Liz moved to the back and sat beside her shaking partner. Her hand found his forehead as his eyes opened at her touch.

"Ress...why did you do this?" she asked, yet she already knew the answer.

He closed his eyes against her question. It had needed to be done, and the fact that he wasn't 100% hadn't changed that fact. And that was all that mattered. The job had needed to be done.

"Because no one else could," he told her, sweat breaking out on his forehead under her hand now with the pain as warm blood trickled down his belly under his jeans.

Shanks returned with his kit. "Okay, I have this final dose of the pain meds here. And I would strongly suggest that you let me give it to you," he told Ressler as he leaned over his patient.

"No. Don't need it now..." Ressler panted.

Shanks looked at Liz as he shook his head. "Right. He doesn't need to save the world now, so he's not going to take it just to ease his own pain," he told Liz as she smiled faintly at him.

Ressler smiled faintly. Liz knew that. She might complain and nag, but she got him. But what made him smile even more was that Shanks got him too.

###

Shanks left them for a little while to assist with securing Conrad as they brought him on board. At the sight of the dead man lying on the cot at the front of the chopper, Liz went to stand by him. His beaten face met her; swollen and unrecognizable, torn and bleeding skin was what remained of his face. Tears pooling in her eyes as she gazed at him in the open body bag, she placed her hand on his cold forehead. Already cool under her touch, his blue skin stood out starkly against her pale hand.

"Conrad..."

Red was suddenly beside her and she turned into him, unable to hold the tears back. She hadn't known Conrad very long, yet the sight of him now was heart breaking.

"Why did they do this to him?" she sobbed, her voice hitching as she looked down at the body.

"Because he never gave up the information he had, Lizzie," he told her, holding her to him. "Come on, let's get you seated so they can get us out of here," he told her.

Behind them, Aram was climbing on board, their compliment now complete. The chopper door was closing and as Liz drew herself away from Red, she looked quickly around. "Where is Dembe?"

"I asked him to take the 'borrowed' boat around to the west side of the island and retrieve the speedboat," he told her. "He'll meet up with us later."

Nodding to Red, she found her seat at the back of the chopper beside her partner while Red sat down heavily in his seat, taking in the sight of his friend's body bag in front of him.

Sitting in her seat and still sniffling as Red leaned forward and zipped up Conrad's body bag, she felt a hand land on her arm. Her partner lay with eyes closed, yet his shaking hand had sought her out. "It will be okay, Liz…" he whispered to her, unable to give her more than that.

Taking his offered hand gratefully from under the blanket, his skin felt cold and clammy to her touch. The rotors fired above them as the engines roared to life, chasing the silence of the cabin away. The orange and white helo with its cargo of living and one dead, bounced a little, then lifted off from the small beach.

Turning to face the ocean as the fog swirled around them, billowing in the downdraft of the rotors, Liz looked out the window as her trembling partner held her hand in support. Through her tears, her last view of the island as they took off over the foggy ocean was of the lighthouse shining into the night, standing stalwart in the fog. She didn't take her eyes off it until they turned for the mainland as the helicopter searchlight shut off and the dark, foggy night closed in around them.

###

Shanks had been correct in his time estimation. Thirty minutes later the helicopter landed on the helipad of the hospital, the red perimeter lights dancing in a light rain as orderlies approached with two gurneys. Her hand now held that of her sleeping partner. As his grip had dropped from her as he'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, she had taken his hand in hers and didn't let go.

Ressler woke with a start as the chopper door was slammed open by the orderlies coming to take their patients. "It's okay," Liz told him as a large white coated man with wet hair loomed over him.

"We've come to get you safely inside, sir, okay?" the man told him, his kind manner belying his large imposing frame.

Shanks was beside them now, lifting the blanket from Ressler and unbuckling the safety straps holding him on the cot. Moving aside to let them get her partner on the gurney, Liz came to stand by Red who was being helped up.

"Gentlemen, as much as I admire your safety protocols, I will not need a gurney. A wheelchair will suffice," he told the orderlies. One tried to argue his point, but the other, wilting under Reddington's glare quickly went and got the wheelchair.

As Ressler and Red were taken from the chopper, Liz and Aram walked behind in the rain before reaching the canopy and a dry walkway. When they split at the ER and each were taken to separate rooms, Aram and Liz looked to each momentarily. And in an unspoken understanding and quick nod to each other they each left for one room. Aram to sit with Red, and Liz to sit with Ressler.

Shanks was standing back as the orderlies loaded Ressler off the gurney and onto the examination bed.

As the orderlies left, the nurse was all business and began cleaning Ressler's left hand in preparation for an IV. He pulled his hand away from her. "I don't need that," he panted.

"It's standard protocol for delivering fluids and medications while here," she told him primly. For a moment, Liz imagined Mr Kaplan standing there with her partner.

"Won't be here that long," Ressler told her, and beside him Shanks chuckled and looked up at the nurse. "Meet my stubborn patient," he told her shaking his head at Ressler before leaning down to him. "I suggest you let her do it. It will go quicker for you," he told him, as Ressler shook his head. "Trust me, Nurse Ratched has nothing on this woman," he added, lowering his voice.

Beside him, Liz smiled as Ressler gave his hand back to the nurse. In just two days, Shanks had learned how to handle her partner perfectly. He turned to her now. "We need to get him set up for his second surgery in 24 hours, so I'll help him get undressed and into this lovely gown here," he told her then pulled the curtain around Ressler as the nurse left them for a few minutes.

As Ressler's clothes were handed out to her one by one from behind the curtain, she folded them and placed them in the provided bag. As his jeans and t-shirt came out, she gasped at how much blood was on them, before folding them and placing them in the bag. As Shanks drew the curtain back, she approached her partner lying white and pale against the hospital gown. Instinctively she took his still trembling hand as blood was already seeping through onto the sheet covering him.

As he stood at the side of Ressler, Shanks looked at them both. "Well, I'm going to have to head out now and get back to base. The chopper is waiting, and duty calls. Actually, my bed calls. I've effectively just worked 48 hours straight," he grinned.

Ressler held his right hand up and shook the medic's hand. "Thanks for putting up with me," he told him, as Liz came around and hugged him. "I second that. Thank you," she smiled, then let Shanks go as he leaned down to grab his kit. Heading for the door, he stopped and looked back at them as Liz returned to her spot to hold Ressler's hand.

"You guys take care of each other, okay?" he smiled at them, then slipped out the door.

###

The doctor entered the cubicle ten minutes later, striding in, white coat flapping behind him and stood over Ressler. "Doctor Lance Gregory. I understand you had a field surgery and now your incision has opened up. Let's have a look shall we?" he said, then looked squarely at Liz. "But I'll need you to step outside first, ma'am."

Wondering briefly if the guy was an ex drill sergeant, Liz faced him. "I'm staying here with him."

"I don't think so. I need to examine him, sedate him and re-suture this wound. You can't be here."

At the mention of sedation, Ressler spoke up, his tired eyes holding the doctor. "You're not knocking me out."

"Sir, I need to stitch you back up. You can't be awake for that."

"I was the last time," he told the doctor, who tilted his head a little, narrowing his eyes.

Liz stifled a smile at her partner's logic.

"Sir, I need-"

"Give me a local, that's all," Ressler told the doctor.

Exhaling heavily, the doctor shook his head. "I'll do that, but if you can't keep still under me, I will sedate you, got it?" Ressler looked silently at the doctor. "Got it? I will sedate you." Ressler nodded.

"Now you need to leave us to it here, ma'am," he again told Liz, snapping on latex gloves.

Liz gripped her partners hand a little tighter. "If he's going to be awake during this procedure, I'm staying right here," she told the doctor firmly.

The nurse came back in at that point, hearing Liz's comment. "Ma'am, the doctor will need you to leave."

"I'm not leaving him."

Ressler looked up at the doctor, tired of the blood trickling down his belly while the doctor argued. "She stays. Let's do this."

Liz squeezed his hand at that.

Addressing Liz, the doctor spoke up. "You will not get in our way. You will sit at his head. We will shield the surgery from your view. Got it?"

"Got it," replied Liz as Ressler met her eyes. The doctor had never stood a chance.

The nurse was handing Liz a mask and gloves. "Wear these," she told her, then rolled a small stool around with her foot. "Sit on this and do not get up." Sitting on the stool, Liz was at head level with her partner as the nurse drew a small curtain across to block their view of his belly. Ressler looked at her, rolling his head to the side. He didn't need to say anything. She saw the nervousness creeping in behind his eyes.

The doctor had the shot with the local sedative at the ready as the nurse leaned over the curtain to Ressler. "Okay, little prick here," she said, then looked back down at his bleeding belly as the doctor injected the medication.

"Well, that's a confidence booster," whispered Ressler to Liz, who cracked up, stifling her laughter with her gloved hand under her mask.

And meeting his eyes as she wiped away tears of laughter, she settled down. "I'm glad to see you haven't lost that dry sense of humor…it's been a rough few days for you…"

He breathed in sharply as he felt pressure as the doctor began to clean and sterilize his wound. "It has been for you too," he told her quietly.

"All over now though," she said, glancing at the curtain.

"Well, not quite," he said and again flinched, gasping at the feeling in his belly.

The nurse looked at him over the curtain. "We will need you to try and keep perfectly still. I know that's difficult."

"You can feel that…you shouldn't be able to, Ress," Liz told him, meeting his blue eyes, both knowing exactly why he could feel it.

"I'll be fine, it's not too bad," he told her, closing his eyes momentarily as another jolt of pain tugged at his belly as the doctor worked.

This time the doctor looked over the curtain. "The initial incision is clean, no problems there. But these two areas either side need some sutures under them to close it properly. Try and keep still here."

Liz leaned closer, leaning her elbows next to his pillow as he flinched again, feeling the procedure. As the doctor opened the incision more to clean and sterilize it with a saline wash, Ressler moved involuntarily. His nerves were jangling inside him and he couldn't keep still, no matter how much he tried.

"Sir, I need you to keep still, or I will sedate you."

"Damn, I'm trying," he whispered.

Panting at the pressure and pain on his belly, Ressler grimaced beside Liz. "Ress, let him sedate you. It will be easier for you," she asked him, reaching her gloved hand up to wipe his forehead.

"No."

The doctor was moving the lower levels of the skin apart to get a good suture in. As the needle pierced his belly, Ressler moved again, dislodging the needle right into the doctor's thumb.

"Okay, that's it. Nurse, if you can prepare the sedation shot."

"I said no," Ressler hissed.

Liz leaned forward to him, her hand still on his forehead. "Ress, you can't keep still. You've been through too much, so just let them do this."

"I don't want to feel that again," he whispered to her, but she was right, he couldn't keep still. And clenching his teeth as the nurse prepared the shot to go in his IV, he held Liz's eyes. "I'm sorry," he told her, feeling the first warming in his hand as the meds were injected.

"For what?" she asked him, holding his other hand.

"For all of…th…is…" he whispered as the meds ran through his veins, knocking him out quickly.

As she watched him fall unconscious under the fast acting medication, she held his hand to her cheek, cradling it against her. He didn't need to be sorry. During the flight, Shanks had come and sat by her and told her what he'd done. He'd saved Red's life. He'd been right in what he'd said. No one else could have done it at that moment when Red was shot and went over the cliff.

She smiled under the mask, watching his pale, sweaty features relaxing. "My stubborn boy scout…you have nothing to be sorry for."

###

Rain was still falling, the sound of it drumming steadily on the window. Liz sat looking out at it as the city of Bangor slept behind the pane of glass, the lights blurring in the wet streaks. Behind her, Red and Aram sat at a small table hunched over his laptop. Ressler slept in the bed near her. They had been at the hospital for three hours now since entering through the ER. The hospital room was doubling as their hotel room for the night after neither Liz nor Aram had wanted to leave Ressler and Red once they had been seen to.

Drawing her gaze from the window she faced her sleeping partner. Still pale from the sedation while they had sewn him back together, he was sleeping off the effects. Having vacated the second bed in the room - or actually, never having got in it in the first place - Red was sitting up and talking to Aram. Fingers flying over the keyboard, Aram ran searches on anything that had the number 108 in it in the surrounding area. But they were still coming up blank.

"This isn't how we're going to find it. It has to be something to do with Conrad's personal effects," said Red, leaning back in the chair.

After lightly touching her partner's arm, Liz came over to join Aram and Red. Easing herself into a chair beside them, Red laid his hand on her arm. "Lizzie, you're exhausted. Get some rest and Aram and I will keep at this.

"I will. But first I want to know what happened to Conrad," she told them quietly.

Red was looking into her tired eyes, knowing she wasn't going to rest until she'd heard. "He was beaten to death. He just didn't know it at the time," he told her, eyes looking downward at the mental image of his friend now resting in the morgue three floors below them. "He never gave the Cabal what they wanted and paid the ultimate price for it."

As Aram paused in his search and listened, Liz looked to Red. "What did they want from him?"

"His list of names, basically. Conrad had years' worth of information of who the Cabal had killed - and who carried out those killings. He noticed a pattern in the bodies that crossed his coroner's table in Boston. He began to realize that the random killings were anything but. And as the pattern became clearer, he did some digging. The way he told it to me, he was contacted by someone else who had noticed it also. He'd only touched the tip of the iceberg. With this informant's help, Conrad amassed a list of names of Cabal victims all over the country. And all over the world."

"Wow...no wonder they were after him..." said Aram quietly.

"Indeed. Political playing fields were being manipulated at the highest level. Heads were being toppled on Wall Street and in the financial districts worldwide. We saw it on a small scale with the Kingmaker. But the Cabal wrote the book on it, so to speak, and they didn't want that information falling into anyone else's hands. As they closed in on Conrad he couldn't escape in any other way than to make up a multi layered cover story that he'd been killed."

Liz shook her head in disbelief. "So he hid out for years until he was found again…"

Aram spoke up. "But what of his informant? Do we know who he was? Or is, assuming he's still alive?"

"No, we do not," said Red. "Conrad's informant did more than point him to the growing pile of bodies. He gave him the names of the killers. It became clear to Conrad that his informant was on the inside. A double agent, so to speak, giving him information from inside the Cabal. And that is the number one piece of information the Cabal wanted from Conrad. They want the name of that informant."

"So he died rather than give up that name. If it was on his computers, it's gone," said Aram, recalling the power outage that had fried the computer hard drives during the surgery.

Red sighed, nodding. "Yes, but we still need to get your FBI guys onto that and back into that cave to-"

Aram interrupted Red. "Oh, um, already onto that. I called Samar, who spoke to Mr Cooper and then I talked to Osborne - Freaking Osborne - the computer genius, and got them onto that. They'll have a unit out there at first light, digging the last of the rocks out of the way and securing the main entrance to the cave and its contents, as well as sealing the escape hatch we came out of."

Red leaned back in his chair. "Agent Mojtabai, I'm impressed. Good man," he told him, smiling. "We need to get you out into the field more often." Aram grinned from behind his laptop as Red continued.

"But any search will likely be in vain. When I asked Conrad about the information they wanted, he said some was in the cave, which we assume is the now defunct computer, and then he pointed to his head. What information remained was in his mind, safely locked away. And that information likely died with him, I'm afraid."

"But what if it didn't? He was telling us something." Aram prodded.

"And all he said was 'one hundred and eight'?" Liz asked them.

"Not exactly... he wrote the number right before he died," clarified Aram, looking quickly up at Liz. "He wrote it in his own blood... See?" He held up his phone and as Liz took it, she shook her head as she viewed the photo. It didn't just show the number on the deck. Conrad lay to one side of the image, his bloody face evident. "Oh, Conrad…" she whispered.

"As hard as it is Lizzie, he died knowing he was a free man who never gave up what he'd held onto for a dozen years," he told her, "And he died among friends, not at the hands of those who had finally caught up to him."

"He shouldn't have died at all. He should have lived out his life on that island, or some place just as… beautiful," she told them, her voice husky with emotion.

"Agreed, Lizzie," he told her quietly. Exhaling and sitting up straighter in his chair, he put his hand back on her arm. "Now get some sleep, and like our illustrious Mr Shanks would say, I'm not taking no for an answer."

Pulling herself up from her chair, she stepped over to the empty bed, then looked to her sleeping partner. Walking to him again, she placed her hand on his forehead. He felt warmer now, no longer trembling as his body rested.

His eyes opened and held hers.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry…" she told him quietly.

"You didn't," he replied softly. "I was listening. And when we get out of here, we need to go back to Conrad's cave and find out what he's trying to tell us."

"Ress, you need to rest up," she told him.

"No. Liz, he gave us a message. The job isn't done."


	15. One Hundred and Eight

The sun rose over the ocean, the first shards of light illuminating the few clouds scudding over the soft swell, announcing daylight had begun. Above a small deserted beach, the tall lighthouse shone its beacon out one last time, then shut off for the day to stand unlit and silent. As the sun's warmth struck the soft blanket of white fog, its heat began dissipating the white mist. And within 30 minutes of the sun rising in the morning sky the night fog had burned off, leaving a bright, still morning in its wake.

As the last tendrils of fog evaporated in the warmer air, the silence on the beach was broken by the distant sound of rotors. Approaching from the west the two dark blue helicopters flew in tandem over the ocean as they approached the island. The lighthouse clearly in their view, they descended, flying in low over the small, boulder strewn beach and touched down lightly on the grassed area above the small cliff face.

Cutting their engines, silence returned to the deserted beach as the choppers sat on the grass. As the doors opened, the white FBI logo glinted in the morning sun as the occupants disembarked, standing in the morning sun with heavy jumpsuits and work gloves in place. They had come to work. To finish the job. And below them in the cliff face the half uncovered tunnel waited for them to open it up once more.

Filing down the path to the lighthouse walkway, they moved together, lugging the equipment needed to dig out the last of the rocks and secure the tunnel. The six men moved down the walkway and stepped onto the rocks with a good-humored banter between them, yet intent on the job at hand. Putting their equipment in the command tent, they stepped through the boulders and came to stand at the cave entrance.

And in the morning light with the soft sound of the waves onshore, they surveyed the scene and prepared to begin the task of moving one boulder at a time, clearing the path for the task force to arrive later that day.

###

Ressler was arguing with his nurse. "Look, I've been shot up and still out in the field far worse off than I am right now. I'm going," he told her, then quickly looked around. "As soon as I can find my clothes..."

Sitting in the recliner beside his bed, Liz spoke up. "They're in the hospital laundry. Looks like you'll just have to stay here a bit longer," she told him, trying not to smile but failing miserably.

"And I thought you were on my side," he told her, rolling his eyes at her snort of laughter.

Red was sitting at the table next to Aram, turning his nose up at the fare they'd presented in front of him and called breakfast. "Let common sense prevail, Donald. You do have some of that, correct?" he asked, then continued as Ressler scowled. "According to Aram here, the team only just arrived at the cave entrance. It will be hours before they're through. Take a moment. Rest. Relax. Convalesce," he told the bedridden agent, grinning broadly.

Ressler was beginning to wonder why he hadn't let that Cheshire cat grin go hurtling over the cliff after all.

Returning his eyes to the nurse as she removed his BP cuff, he continued his discussion. "I don't need to rest. I just need to get back to work."

"The doctor will be on rounds soon, and you can take it up with him," she told him, having finished getting his vitals which were surprisingly good despite his protests. "You should also eat something," she added, smiling. She'd had far worse patients than Ressler and was taking it all in her stride.

Ressler sighed, looking at the assortment of clear liquids and orange jello on his breakfast tray. "Anything that I have to eat through a straw isn't food," he told her. Liz turned away so he couldn't see her burst of laughter. He saw. But as a compromise he took the coffee which stood alone as the most palatable liquid on the tray. He was taking a tentative sip of the warm liquid when the doctor came striding into the room, sweeping past Red and Aram at the table.

"So, now you can go for it," the nurse whispered, motioning her head to the doctor and giving him one last smile before wheeling her squeaky little cart out of the room.

"Agent Ressler, let's have a look at you, shall we? If you could step aside please ma'am," the doctor told Liz, barely giving her a cursory glance.

Ressler nodded to her as she composed herself. Stepping past his bed she gave him a smile as the doctor drew the curtain around them and proceeded to examine Ressler's incision.

"Looking good. We'll keep you on fluids and a liquid diet today and look at it tomorrow. For today, I want you to rest.

From behind the curtain Red added. "Relax. Convalesce. You see? We're all in agreement, Donald."

Ressler ignored Red and the unseen grin he could hear behind the words as he shook his head at the doctor. "I'll be out of here this afternoon."

"I would not advise that. You've been through a lot."

"Nothing new there. I'm fine."

Doctor Gregory regarded him a moment. "I can't stop you leaving against medical advice, but you make sure you follow up with your own doctor or your Bureau medic as soon as you return to your field office, got it?"

"Got it," Ressler replied, meeting the doctor's eyes.

"Very well then," he said, tossing his latex gloves in the trash. "Best of luck to you, Agent Ressler."

Ressler thanked the doctor and with a last shake of his head, Dr Gregory turned and left, sliding the curtain aside to reveal Red tilting his head at Ressler, the grin not far from his features.

Ressler turned to look at him. "Eat your breakfast," he shot at Red before dropping the head of his bed down to 'rest'.

Red laughed out loud. "There's our feisty, door kicking Donald again."

###

After spending the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon at the hospital, Ressler had had more than enough rest - and never wanted to set eyes on a jello cup again. Things were looking up though when he found his clothes. Folded neatly on the window ledge, they were the first thing he saw as he woke up from a nap he hadn't even been aware he'd been about to take. Liz's voice came to him from the recliner, the chair creaking as she lowered the foot rest.

"Feeling better?" she asked him, leaning forward on the chair.

He actually was. "Yeah, and more than ready to get outta here." He looked around the empty room. "Where are Reddington and Aram?"

"Red organized a car for us to get back to the coast and from there Dembe will meet us. Aram went down to see the driver, while Red is at the nurse's station getting your escape orders under way."

Ressler gave his half smile, looking toward the doorway and then looked down at his gown. Seeing the look she rose from the recliner. "I'll let you get dressed," she told him, pulling the curtain around his bed before sitting down at the table. He talked to her from behind the curtain as he dressed, feeling more human with each item of clothing he donned.

"Any more news from the crew out at the cave?"

"Yes! Aram spoke to them a little while ago. They're through to the cave!"

"Oh, finally," he said quietly, grimacing as he reached down to put his boots on, squashing his incision.

She heard, and almost went to help but decided to let him be. "They're making the tunnel safe so we don't have any more... cave ins..." Her voice drifted at that. He heard it, knowing where her mind had gone.

"And before you ask," she added, changing the subject, "No, we're no closer to figuring out what 108 is."

He pulled the curtain back, his jeans and t-shirt on then drew his shirt about his shoulders. "Because the answer is in that cave, Liz." He looked at his watch, having found it in one of his boots the hard way. "5:10pm. So we have about three hours of light."

"And we have a vehicle downstairs waiting," Aram informed them, spinning the keys on his finger as he entered the room. "And I just saw Mr Reddington limping this way with the paperwork lady in tow. Looks like you're getting out of here, Agent Ressler."

"About freakin' time…"

Red came into the room, resembling Cooper on his cane with a Fred Astaire flair. Ressler had to look away and smile. Some time while he'd been asleep Red had apparently had a new suit, shirt and tie bought and delivered. He looked impeccable, as usual and addressed the three of them standing before him.

"Excellent, we're all here. Donald, sign your life away then then we can head back to the island. Dembe will meet us in Rockport with the speedboat."

Ressler groaned beside Liz as he took up the offered pen to sign his discharge papers. "Of course he had to get us on another boat," he whispered to her as she swallowed a smile at her non-seaworthy partner.

###

With just under an hour of sunlight remaining, the boat powered down and entered the small inlet below the lighthouse. Under the late afternoon sun the limestone cliff face had taken on an orange hue behind the dark forms of the men in the clean up crew. Cutting the engines, Red drifted in and as the boat slowed Dembe dropped anchor when Red gave the word.

"Well, this has a familiar feel to it," Ressler told Liz as they sat on deck under the canopy "Let's get off this thing," he added, gasping as he carefully rose to his feet against the pain in his belly. But even Ressler had to admit, this was a cool boat. 32 feet in length, sleek and fast on the water she had made the crossing in no time at all.

Liz grinned at him. "Oh come on, even you liked that," she ragged him as he shrugged beside her, the glint behind his eyes telling her she was right.

Liz leaned on the railing, looking out and the sun glinting on the soft swell of the waves. "You know, I think I could live on a boat. Maybe in a different life, I could have sailed away with someone and lived a simpler life on the water," she mused. Ressler was watching her, seeing the look in her eyes as she looked out at the ocean. He leaned close.

"You know, the more I'm around you, the more I see it," he told her.

"See what?" she asked, moving her hair back behind her ear in the gentle breeze.

"How much like him you are," he told her quietly, blue eyes catching the setting sun as he motioned back to their captain.

She followed his gaze, suddenly serious. "I know... and sometimes that scares me, Ress..." She met her partner's eyes as he stood close. "But I have you to keep me on the straight and narrow, right?" she asked, lightening the mood.

"Always," he told her, then held her elbow and steered her to the dinghy to exit the boat. She was right about that too. He would always try to keep her safe, to the best of his abilities.

###

"Oh, excellent! They've even restored the power!" exclaimed Aram as they entered the cave. They weren't alone. A couple of agents were documenting and preserving everything, taking masses of photos of Conrad's belongings. A man sat at the computer desk with the stripped down boards of computers in front of him. "Freaking Osborne!" Aram cried out in welcome, then went and pulled up a chair beside his colleague.

"Where do we start?" Liz asked Ressler beside her as they quickly scanned the cave.

"The bookshelf," he told her, leaning over a little after walking down the tunnel. "Clear a spot on the table so we can look at each book," he instructed, taking charge instinctively.

Red was walking over to Aram and Osborne. "Gentlemen, can they be revived?" He got more than he bargained for when Osborne answered him, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to explain about the burnt out boards, chips, fans and circuits and the limited replacement parts he had with him. Red held up his hand. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

Aram looked up at Red. "It's not that simple though, Mr Reddington. Osborne is correct. This is a complex job and there is no guarantee we can ever get anything off these hard drives."

Red leaned on the backs of the two chairs, facing each man in turn. "I have the utmost confidence that if there is a way, you will find it," he told them, and then headed to the couch and eased himself down. He may have looked like he was resting, but he was surveying everything before them, one item at a time. Dismissing one, then moving onto the next to find out where 108 might be in this cave.

Eyes resting on the tall cabinet, Red eased up from the couch, using his cane to pull him up then opened the doors to reveal Conrad's sketch books, notebooks and assorted pencils. Making sure the agents had photographed everything, he took two of the thick stenographers notebooks and sat back down on the couch and began to go through each page.

Ressler was talking to the guys taking photos. "You've documented the bookcase also?"

"We got it, sir. Should be safe to look at the books now. We know the order they started in."

Red called over to him. "Donald, before you look at individual books, count them, because it looks about 100 to me."

Ressler was way ahead of him and stopped after he counted the books on the top shelf. "Thirty seven," he told Liz who jotted it down in her notepad. And counting, they documented the number of books. 113 all up," he said, looking at her. She leaned down and counted back 5 books on the bottom shelf.

"So this might be book number 108, depending on how Conrad may have counted them," she told him, pulling it from the shelf and taking it to the small kitchen table where they sat and looked at it together.

"Birds of Maine Field Guide," she read, looking at the cover.

"What's on page 108?" he asked, but she was already flipping through the book. In disappointment they looked at the bird on the page. "A Yellow Bellied Flycatcher..." Liz said. "I guess I was hoping for-"

"A raven?" Ressler interrupted. "Yeah, I think I was too. Damn." He looked up at her as they leaned over the book. "That would be too simple, of course." Putting the book back in its place, they pulled the fifth book on the top shelf, in case the books were meant to be counted from the bottom right corner. As they studied a worn medical journal from the 1960's, they again found nothing of any significance on page 108.

"It's just a blank page between chapters," sighed Liz as they returned that book to the shelf. Repeating the exercise with all four corners of the bookshelf, none of the books revealed any secrets on their 108th pages.

"You're going to have to look at page 108 on every book," suggested Red, coming to stand by them as they stood perusing the books on the book shelf.

Ressler nodded, taking the first book as Liz took the end book on the top shelf, being careful to keep the books in the same order as when they'd found them. And in that manner, they began leafing through each book on the shelves in turn. Some had more than 108 pages. Many had far less.

But not one of them offered up a significant clue.

###

"I think we can safely say it's not in the books on the bookshelf," said Ressler, sitting at the kitchen table resting his chin on his right hand. Dembe had filled several jars with fresh water from the cave spring, and sitting together they sipped on it. Moving to sit on the couch, Liz leaned back and eased out her back muscles that were tensing up. One of Conrad's sketch books lay on the small end table beside her and taking it in her hand she opened it. As the beautiful drawings appeared before her, page after page, she found herself tearing up.

"He was so good... so very talented," she told Red at the other end of the couch.

"That he was, Lizzie."

And opening the page to his final drawing, a tear rolled down her cheek as she held the page with the drawing he'd done of her and Ressler. "Oh, gosh..." she sniffed, looking at their likenesses on the page and the beauty with which he'd captured them while sitting right here on this couch.

Red scooted over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I hadn't seen this one... let me look," he asked as she handed him the sketch pad. Shaking his head, he looked at it. "He saw it straight away," he said quietly. Liz looked at him in question as Red smiled at her, before handing her the sketch pad. "Don't let that be hidden away in some evidence box in the bowels of the FBI. You keep that, Lizzie," he smiled at her.

Aram came over and looked at the drawing. "Wow..." he said quietly, gently taking the sketch pad from Liz. "He was good..." His eyes narrowed as he studied it, then quickly moved to the table with it, taking out his phone and shining the flashlight on the sketch.

"What is it?" Ressler asked, sitting at the table and looking at the drawing.

"Oh, my God." Aram's wide eyes met Resslers. "Look."

Ressler leaned forward. In the bright light of the phone he saw it. Initially thinking it part of the chair that Liz had sitting been on, now the pencil marks became clear.

They weren't random lines and curves. They were numbers.

"108!" exclaimed Aram, looking up as Liz came over to stand beside them.

"What?!"

"Right there in the drawing, see it?! And there are other numbers, look here!"

Now that they were more in tune with what to look for, they saw them. A series of tiny numbers along the base of the cot Ressler was laying on in the drawing.

"What do they mean?" Liz asked Aram, staring at the numbers on the page.

"I don't know... Yet…" he told her, distracted as his mind raced. "But let's start by looking at his other drawings!"

###

An hour later, their excitement had been replaced with more confusion. Scores of Conrad's drawings had hidden numbers within them, some with more numbers, some with less, but all were different.

"I think these numbers represent names. In code," said Aram, looking up from yet another drawing, pinching the top of his nose and closing his eyes as his brain ached. "If we could work out what the numbers are on yours and Agent Ressler's drawing, we might be able to use it as a cipher for the others."

"Exactly what I have been attempting to do. I've tried every combination I can think of and compared it to some of the other drawings," Red told him, having scribbled down the numbers on a notebook that now had his marks all over it. "Nothing is panning out."

"Osborne, what do we know about simple codes?" Aram asked him.

"That we need the main cipher. Without that, we're just guessing. Who says it's simple though?" Osborne replied from the computer desk, delicately cleaning a circuit board.

"Whoa!" Ressler stopped on a page in an older sketch pad and looked up at Liz across the kitchen table from him. "Recognize this guy?" He turned the notebook to her and she stared for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't... wait..." she leaned forward.

Red came over and looked at the sketch. "Put a few years on him and add a bruised and bandaged nose and we have our broken nosed friend."

"Oh, my gosh, you're right! It IS him!" cried Liz, looking at the drawing again.

"Was." Red corrected her as Ressler looked up at him. The cold blooded killer was still there, hidden under the tired man leaning on his cane. It was hard to come to terms with the stark contrasts within Reddington at times. He drew his attention back to the drawing of Broken Nose.

"These aren't random drawings. We know this guy was Cabal, which means-" Ressler told them, pointing at the drawing as Liz broke in.

"His drawings are his list!"

"Hidden in plain sight," mused Red, shaking his head.

"But we don't know their names until we can decipher his code..." Aram said in frustration, turning back to his notebooks and wandering off studying the numbers yet again. "We still need the cipher..."

###

A while later Liz stood up to stretch her back again. Ressler looked up from the numbers on his notepad, unable to make sense of any of them. "You alright?" he asked quietly.

She nodded tiredly. "Yeah. The meds they gave me have long since worn off. How about you?"

"I'm fine. This is much easier than running around the island and..." his words drifted off as he shrugged.

"And saving people from falling over cliffs," she smiled. "Actually, I'm hungry," she added, looking toward the meager supplies on Conrad's kitchen shelves.

Ressler followed her eyes. "He's not going to need them anymore, Liz," he told her, putting his hand on her arm as she quickly looked at him.

"I know. I'll see what I can rustle us up to eat," she told him, blinking tears away and moving to the simple kitchen that was actually an outside BBQ unit nestled against the rock. Cupboards had been screwed into the cave walls either side of the shelves, completing the compact and functional kitchen.

Dembe stepped up from the back of the cave where he had sat, keeping out of their way while also guarding the dark tunnel. "Elizabeth, I will do that. You sit down," he told her, glad for something to do as he made his way to the kitchen area to prepare a meal. Opening and closing cupboard doors, he found several cans and boxes of food with which to throw something together. Behind him, Aram caught sight of something.

"Wait, open that again," he asked Dembe, scrambling from his seat near the computer area.

Aram pointed to one of the closed cupboards as Dembe opened the door revealing a sheet of paper stuck to the inside. Stuck down with old, yellowed tape to the inside of the door, the corners curled and soft, the paper had obviously been there a great many years.

"What is it?" Ressler asked, turning to look at Aram who was apparently just standing there.

"It's..." Aram stopped, his mind racing. Counting. "Eighteen... six in each..." A grin broke across his features as he turned to them. "It was right here all along, and we didn't even..."

Red spoke up from the couch. "Aram, perhaps you had better explain."

"It's Conrad's copy of The Raven, taped to his door here. Guys, it's the poem, but it's the cipher!" he told them. "Hidden just like his drawings, in plain sight."

Ressler and Liz stood up slowly, coming to look at the sheet of paper as Aram pointed to it, and continued.

"The poem consists of eighteen paragraphs of 6 lines each," he explained.

"Making 108 lines," said Red quietly, as Aram beamed, holding his hands out and bowing his head to them.

###

Reluctant to take down Conrad's copy of his poem, they left it where it was as Aram hurried to his laptop. Attaching his phone to receive an internet signal, he quickly found a copy of the poem online and copied it to his word processor.

"Okay, now we can work with it," he told them, as he went down each line and numbered it. What are the numbers from your drawing, Liz?" he asked her.

Red answered immediately. He'd studied them enough that he'd memorized them. "13.3.3 36.6.2 72.4.3 94.8.3"

Osborne was leaning over, pointing as Aram jotted the numbers down, but Aram had already seen it. "Yes! Line number, then the word number on that line, then the letter of that word..." he said, his eyes flying over the poem. First letter is… L," he told them. "Well, I'm pretty sure, it is."

"There," pointed Osborne.

"Second letter is O...I think," said Aram, moving down to line 72.

And counting, he looked at the next two letters and suddenly smiled up at Liz. "The word is LOVE. He wrote 'love' on your drawing, guys," he told them, looking at the two agents who were leaning down either side of him and looking at his laptop screen. The white light shining on each of their faces, they both turned to Aram.

Red smiled, stepping back and looking at Ressler and Liz whose eyes had now slid across to each other, locking on their partner.

"Um, yeah, so…so that's what he wrote," said Aram, suddenly flustered. And really wanting to distance himself from the look his colleagues were now giving each other right in front of him, he tried to return to the business at hand. "So, um, now we can decipher all the names on the drawings."

Leaving Aram and Osborne to decipher the names, Liz and Ressler moved back to the kitchen table as Dembe served them the meal. Eating automatically now, her mind barely on the food, she looked across at Ressler. They hadn't said anything to each other. He sipped coffee as she ate, and placing her fork on the plate, she looked up at him.

"I think..." she said, then stopped. "I mean, I don't think he told us anything we didn't already know deep down..." she said quietly, looking at him warily trying to gauge his reaction.

When he was a kid, Ressler had watched Han Solo tell Princess Leia "I know," when she'd professed her love for him. And as a kid, he'd always found that kinda cool. Also kinda annoying when all the girls sitting around him yelled at the screen that he should have told her he loved her too. Now he understood more. Just as Han Solo couldn't say it, he also could not openly utter the one sentiment that Conrad had observed between himself and Liz.

He and Liz might have feelings for each other, but neither of them could ever act on them while they were partners. And more to the point, while they were each dealing with their own losses and uncertainties in their own lives. For now it was enough to know they worked with their best friend. The one they trusted. The one they leaned on. The one they shared secrets and lies with. And the one they needed more than they could admit.

Watching the cogs turn in his mind while knowing exactly what he was thinking, Liz waited.

"I know," he told her, finally answering her, then gave her one of his rare, beautiful smiles.

She smiled too, breaking the sudden awkward awareness and returning them to their comfortable ease in each others presence.

###

Aram and Osborne were now systematically going through every sketch with numbers, decoding the name and then moving onto the next sketch. Working with one of the photo guys, who seemingly had a never ending supply of memory cards for his camera, they were taking a digital photo of every sketch.

Aram looked up at them. "With all these names, I'm not sure how we're going to know if Conrad's Cabal informant is one of them."

Red spoke up from the couch. "I believe he will have left a clue to that. He's got us this far."

"You're right. I have faith in our dear Mr Lucas," said Aram, stopping and looking around him at the cave. "But this is going to take a while. We're getting names, but that's not telling us who these people are. Or who they were, if they were the Cabal's victims. I think it would be quicker to do this back at the Post Office," he informed them. "I mean, if you think that's what we should do, of course," he added, looking to Ressler for confirmation. The fact he suddenly longed for his comfortable desk with Samar sitting across from him had nothing to with it. Not at all.

Ressler was already coming to the same conclusion and nodded. "I think we've done all we can here. Now let's have the crew come back in and take this place apart and move it piece by piece to a large room in the Post Office."

"Aaaww…"

Ressler turned back to her. "What?"

"It's sad. We're pulling his home apart as evidence now," she told him.

He looked down and leaned closer to her, hand to his belly. "Well, look at this way though. You can go sit in his cave any time you want to at the Post Office," he told her, "And you won't have to get on a freakin' boat to do it."

She smiled at him then, nodding. "Right."

Ressler took a last look around the cave. This had been Conrad's home for years. It was well lived in. Even comfortable, as far as caves went. His eyes dropped to the cot and the discarded medical supplies nearby. He'd had a surgery in this cave. He'd come into it whole and left with a little piece less of him. His life had been saved here. And a kind man with blue skin had made them feel welcome and become part of their team for a little while. She was right. It was sad.

Liz was watching him. "You can't fool me, you know," she told him softly, smiling up at him.

###

Much to Ressler's relief, the sea was still fairly calm when they exited the cave to find a crystal clear night with no sign of fog. Lit by the moon and the rotating lighthouse above them, the waves lapped calmly on shore, the sound deceptively relaxing. Standing on the beach together, Red drew in a deep breath of air and filled his lungs.

"There is no better air on this planet to breathe into ones lungs," he smiled, closing his eyes momentarily.

Ressler decided against telling the man he'd take his word for it and just let Red have his moment. His eyes fell onto their waiting speedboat bobbing on the ocean waves about 30 feet from shore. An arm found his elbow and looking down he found Liz leaning into him.

"Come on, let's get off this island," she said then looked around them. "Though… I like it here. It's peaceful. I can see why Conrad loved it…"

Ressler lifted his eyes from her and looked up at the lighthouse shining its protective beacon into the night sky. And again, he had to agree with his partner as they walked down the beach toward the waiting dinghy on the shore.

###

Arriving in Rockport, they were surprised to see Mr Young. Two cars stood by for them. The first car they'd had on arriving from the plane days previously, as well as the rental car they'd used to leave the hospital.

"Mr Young, perfect timing," said Red, slapping his employee on the back. "I trust everything went well with our friends at the Coast Guard when you went to get our vehicle?"

Young nodded, then looked to Ressler, smirking. "Oh yeah, I told them I knew the FBI agent who'd just had his guts opened up in a cave, and they knew I was for real. I mean, no one can make this stuff up, right?"

Ressler stood with hands on hips, regarding Red's employee, then smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and there was a medic there," added Young, "who said to tell you not to go running around on any cliff tops again. Do you know what he was talking about?" asked Young, tilting his head at Ressler in question, still with that goading smile.

"I have no idea," Ressler deadpanned as Liz chuckled beside him.

Red smiled, and faced his employee. "Excellent. Mr Young, if you wouldn't mind taking Agent Mojtabai here back to the plane, we have some last minute business to attend to just up the coast.

"We do?" Ressler and Liz both asked together.

"We do." Red herded them to their vehicle without further elaboration.

Stopping, Liz turned to Aram and wrapped her arms around him, leaning on his chest as his arms found her back. "You can join us in the field any time, my computer geek friend," she told him, smiling up at him as she pulled back from him.

"Thank you," Aram grinned, then shook Ressler's offered hand.

"I gotta say, you surprised me. Well done. And thank you," he told Aram, who grinned even wider at Ressler's praise.

Leaving Aram as he climbed in the other vehicle with Young, they pulled out of the parking lot with Dembe driving. Ressler eyed Liz as they sat together in the back. She shook her head and had no idea either as they left the sleepy seaport town behind them. As the winding coast road took them by the beach to their right, memories of being followed came to them. Ressler found it hard not to look behind them for signs of pursuit. As Liz stole a glance behind them, she swallowed hard and returned her gaze to the front.

The Inn came into sight, sitting back from the road as its inviting lights shone out onto the lawn in front. From the front passenger seat, Red pointed and Dembe slowed and turned into the parking lot. As the car came to a halt, Red leaned back to them.

"Here we are," he said pleasantly before climbing out.

They joined him beside the car, standing on the gravel by the front of the Inn, while Dembe opened the trunk and deposited their overnight bags at their feet.

"What's going on?" Liz asked Red, taking his arm.

Red didn't answer her, but drew his eyes off her and settled on Ressler. "Donald has been to hell and back in the last four days, and you have suffered a terrible ordeal. Consider it a gift. A chance to put your feet up," he told them as Ressler open his mouth to speak.

Red held his hand up. "I'm not going to hear your protests. You wouldn't listen to us or the doctor in the hospital. So now you're going to." He smiled congenially, waving his hand to encompass the inviting Inn. "So you're paid up for as long as you wish to stay. And when you're ready to leave, just let me know. So. Rest. Relax-"

"Convalesce," finished Ressler as Liz took in the Inn beside them, listening to the ocean swell from the other side of the road in the peaceful night.

"Exactly."

"You've got it all figured out, haven't you Reddington?" said Ressler, shaking his head at the criminal. "You know we need to get back to work and sort through all of Conrad's drawings, right?"

"Aram is more than capable. The rest of it will be waiting for you when you get back, Donald." He looked to Dembe. "Shall we?" he told the dark man and walked back to the car, straightening his hat.

"He's leaving?"

"He is," answered Ressler as Dembe and Red pulled out of the parking lot and left them standing there.

Ressler ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the Inn. "Well, we can't stand out here all night. And I for one don't think I have it in me to walk back to town and get out of here."

Liz looked at him, a smile forming on her lips. "Yeah...we'll just have to tough it out here, right?"

His eyes slid across to her, lit by the porch light. She caught the glint behind them. "Something like that, yeah."

Walking together up the steps to the double front doors, they entered as a bell jingled above their heads. It was late, past midnight and the lobby and desk was deserted. As they stood together leaning on the counter, Ressler hit the bell. From the rear room came a shuffling and then the desk clerk stood before them, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

"Sorry folks, what can I do for-" She stopped when she saw Liz, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Oh." Her eyes shot to Ressler, looking him up and down.

Ressler caught the look and glanced at Liz, who was suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. "Donald Ressler... I believe there is a booking here for us," said Ressler, still wondering why his partner was looking everywhere but in his direction.

The desk clerk recovered and reached for a key behind her. "Of course sir. You and your wife have a room facing the ocean and-"

"She's not-"

Liz stepped on his foot as he barely stifled a retort. She took the key, grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her.

"What-?"

"Come along honey, our room awaits," she smiled back at him, raising her eyebrows at him to comply.

As they went up the stairs, Ressler taking it slower as the pain in his belly woke up, the desk clerk watched them and shook her head, speaking quietly. "That girl is crazy... stepping out with that dark, shifty fella when she's married to THAT. Lordy, if she don't want him, I'm more than happy to take him off her hands..."

From behind her, a tired voice spoke up. "What did you say?

"Nothing honey. Nothing at all."

###

As Ressler and Liz reached the top of the landing, he shook his arm from her hand. "Okay, what was that?"

She smiled at him. "Well, you're my scary husband and I'm cheating on you with Aram."

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. "I appear to have missed the memo on that one," he told her, then looked at the key in her hand. "Well...wife... we only have one room, apparently."

She smiled at him and unlocked the door to the large, spacious room. "And only one bed."

"Well, wherever will you sleep?" he asked, walking behind her and dropping his bag to the floor and turning to her with an unreadable glint in his eye. "I'm kidding, you take the bed, I'll take the couch," he smiled and walked further into the room.

She held his arm. "It would be okay with me, if it's okay with you," she told him, as he turned his head back to her.

Stepping behind her he turned the light out and moved to her, taking her gently in his arms. "So you wouldn't mind if I just slept beside you?"

She leaned on his chest, mindful of his painful belly. "I would love that."

He held her, resting his chin on her hair. "I know," he told her, giving her his best Han Solo cool reply.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," she told him, and pulled back and headed for the bathroom.

Twelve minutes later, dressed in shorts and t-shirt, she entered the large room and approached the bed. Her partner was already laying on his left side, muscular arm visible in his t-shirt on the outside of the covers. Head on the pillow with eyes closed in sleep, he was the picture of peace. Just as Conrad had drawn him.

She almost hated to slip into bed in case she woke him, but did so very gently. He stirred and half opened his eyes.

"Night, Ress," she whispered

"Night..."

Facing him, she lay her head on the pillow. And her resting, relaxing, convalescing partner was the last thing she saw beside her as she drifted off to sleep.

\- THE END -


End file.
